


He Deserves a Chance

by greeny1710



Series: The Chaotic Trio verse [15]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Chapter Titles are songs lmao, Charlotte and Charles are just friends in this, Content Warnings are mentioned in Author Notes of each chapter, Depression, Derogatory Language, Domestic Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 144,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeny1710/pseuds/greeny1710
Summary: His brothers both got their happy endings. It was about time Charles did too.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Relationship to be added
Series: The Chaotic Trio verse [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594924
Comments: 600
Kudos: 446





	1. Teenage Dream - June 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Are we excited?
> 
> I said on Tumblr a week ago I just finished plotting the Charles and soft boyfriend happy ending and it’s 7 pages of notes and planning and if yall don’t cry at least once I’m cancelling happy endings forever and well, it's finally going to happen.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. it's been a long time coming and I'm just so excited for you to see his happy ending.

\-- **Wednesday Evening - 3rd JUNE 2020** \--

“I met a boy today,” Charles whispered, pressing his hands underneath his thighs to stop them shaking.

“And how do you feel about that?” His therapist asked. 

“I’m terrified things are gonna go bad, Ada,” Charles told her, a tear escaping, “I know logically he’s going to be nothing like Mick, but every time I look at him, he’s got these blue eyes right, and I just see Mick. I’m scared.”

“What do you know about him?”

Charles shrugged.

“Nothing. He’s got an accent, he’s cute, he’s got these eyes that sometimes look blue and sometimes look grey, and this adorable gap in his teeth. And he carries a camera.”

“Maybe find out his name before you do anything else, Charles. Let yourself make a friend before you think about anything more. I know you think he’s cute and all, but take it slow. You can do this.”

“What if he thinks I’m a slut or something? If he finds out what happened-“

“Then he’s not the kind of boy you want to be with and I’m sure your brothers will deal with it,” Ada shrugged.

“Max and Dan know about him. I told them about it earlier when I got home from school, but I haven’t even told my Dads yet. Seb will lose his shit and I can’t have that. I can’t have him freak out because _I’m_ the one who needs to freak out.”

“Why will Seb freak out, Charles?”

“I dunno, I just, I think he’s scared of me growing up and getting hurt again because of what happened. I’m scared of growing up.”

“Charles, just indulge me for a minute,” she said, and Charles wiped away the steady stream of tears, “Close your eyes for me.”

Charles closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto the sofa.

“What do you see when you think about your future?”

“I see, I dunno, things not being so dark. I see my family smiling, I see Dan holding Max’s hand and I see them running around one day with kids of their own.”

“And where do you see yourself in this future?”

“Being on the runways, and people clapping and praising my work. And everything’s a bit brighter and I’m not scared anymore.”

“And what is it that scares you now, Charles?”

“The unknown,” he answered, slowly opening his eyes to look at Ada. 

All of his anxieties and insecurities were bubbling at the surface, and all he could think about was Max’s nervous excitement when Charles had come running home to tell him ‘Oh my god, I’m in love, help me’. Charles had curled up in Daniel’s arms and ate ice cream with Max, and all his mind was occupied with was the soft boy that had smiled beautifully at him and the eyes that trailed continuously through his mind. 

Charles wanted him to be something good, but the idea that this boy who looked like he’d make you smile and make you laugh could infact have that same evil streak that had developed through Mick’s personality terrified him. 

Charles couldn’t trust people. 

He trusted his brothers and Dan and begrudgingly Lewis. He trusted his Dad and his Isa. They would keep him safe. 

And this new boy could be the exact thing that sent all of Charles’ hard work to getting to a stage at which he wasn’t trying to claw his skin off or find a way to sneak away without his parents finding out back to shit. 

He wanted to be okay and he wanted this boy to make him smile. 

And if he didn’t, Charles didn’t know what he’d do. 

\-- **Wednesday Lunchtime - 3rd June 2020** \--

“Oh my god, I’m in love, help me,” Charles said dramatically, falling onto the bed in between Max and Dan and breaking up their cuddle/make out session if their red lips and cheeks were anything to go by. 

Max had pushed Charles onto Dan, and Dan had quietly rubbed his back to comfort him. All the while, Charles was furiously trying to get the boy’s eyes to leave his mind as he shuddered in his breaths. 

He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready for his world to change again. He was just at a point in his life in which he was finally starting to feel a sense of normality. And of course his head was still dark and there were days that getting out of bed was a task beyond anything that Charles could possibly manage and the nightmares that would wake him screaming and end with him throwing up in the early hours of the morning as his Dads sat with him and rubbed his back until he felt safer again. 

But he was doing _okay_ and the idea that this one person with eyes that were more confusing than the sky after a storm, eyes that reflected purity and understanding, that looked at Charles like he was a _person_ and not just ‘that slut that got battered’, could break down all of his hard work just by making him fall for him and then turn around and tell Charles he was worthless wasn’t what he needed. 

He couldn’t have that. 

He couldn’t battle to be normal when this boy was shattering his resolve. 

“Sit up shitface,” Max nudged the back of his leg with his foot. 

Charles pushed himself up and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and dropping his chin onto his knees. If he huddled into himself, he could protect his heart. His heart couldn’t be damaged if no one could get close. 

He dragged a spoon through some ice cream and shovelled it into his mouth. The cold smacked him, stopping his racing heart and his beating nightmares, shocking his system into slowling down for a moment. 

“Go on then, tell us all about him,” Max said, smiling comfortingly at him in a way that helped to slow his mind. 

Max had faith in him, and when he looked at the grins on Max and Dan’s faces, he knew that no matter what, these two boys had his back. Max wouldn’t let anything happen to him and Dan? Well Dan was Dan. There was a reason why Max adored him more than anything. Dan had the kind of presence that meant you were always safe. He’d protected Max from the darkness of his own head enough times that he was naturally capable of taking care of Charles too.

He took care of all of them, it was just in his nature to do so. Daniel didn’t have a cruel bone in his body, and if he was smiling happily, then maybe Charles could be happy too. 

“There’s a new boy, I don’t know when he started,” Charles explained. He saw the way Max sharply looked up at Daniel and Daniel shrugged. 

He wouldn’t know anything. He’d been out of school for a month now, he knew nothing about what was going on. His exams were finished and he basically spent his days waiting for Max to finish school so they could hang out. And Charles didn’t know who this new boy was anyway. 

“Okay,” Max said, “What do you know about him?”

“He’s new, he has an accent, I think he’s French? I don’t know. He smiled at me and said my art is cool, said I had a talent because I could do basic colour theory and mix red and blue to make a purple.”

“Are you sure you’re not just getting excited because someone was nice to you?” Max asked. It should’ve sounded cruel, Max saying that Charles might’ve been overreacting, but Charles knew Max wasn’t intending it to sound like that. He was just looking out for Charles and didn’t want Charles to get his heart broken. 

Charles had never had a serious relationship. He’d been sleeping around since he was barely fifteen, people taking advantage of him and Charles had loved it. Until it all came back to bite him in the butt and all the people Charles had previously trusted ended up vanishing into the abyss and now Charles spent a lot of time hanging out with his brother and his friends, or in a classroom, hiding away with Charlotte. Charles still tried to portray himself as someone who was confident, someone who had the balls to keep fighting when all he ever got called was a slut, a whore, a liar. 

And he tried not to care, but _fucking hell_ did it hurt sometimes. 

And so it was only fair that Max worried whether Charles was getting attached because this new kid didn’t know anything. He didn’t know who Charles was, he didn’t know he was the kid with the issues, he didn’t know that Charles was the kid who flip-flopped between screaming the house down in anger and screaming the house down in fear. 

“I just want to believe he can be good, Max,” Charles whispered, “And he smiled at me, like actually smiled. And not just because he wants something out of me, and like, I feel like a dick but I just want him to be nice.”

“Why do you feel like a dick for wanting that?” Daniel asked, stroking his fingers through Charles’ hair. 

“Because I don’t get this, I don’t get to be happy and I don’t deserve it, not after everything I did,” Charles broke out, dropping his spoon and flinching when the ice cold spoon smacked against his leg. He buried his face in his hand and bit his lip, trying to keep the sobs in. He bit his lip too hard however and instantly gagged when he felt the blood flood his mouth. 

Max passed a tissue across instantly and Charles spat into it, trying to get rid of the taste of blood in his mouth. 

“Here,” Dan whispered, “Wash your mouth out kid.”

Charles accepted the water bottle from Dan and swished some water around his mouth before pushing himself off the bed and to Max’s window. They all had giant windows in their rooms overlooking endless realms of grass and shrubbery extending through their garden, and when Charles pushed the window open to spit out the mucky water, he was reminded of the freedom that their house gave him. 

They had a lot of land, which was one of the perks of Seb having bought the land to have their house built on, and growing up, Charles had loved it. He’d spent endless hours chasing his brothers through the garden, his Dads joining them and throwing the boys around. His Dads had installed the swing set that was slowly becoming dilapidated not long after they moved to the UK when the boys were seven and Charles was quick to become obsessed with them. He’d spent countless hours swinging on them over the years, and when he’d lost his virginity, he’d sat on them for a few hours, his feet slowly pushing him back and forth as he’d become lost in thought. And now they sat, unused for a couple of years, and all Charles could think about was that childish innocence that it had granted him all those years ago. 

He’d always loved the swings, and the first time he’d ever gone to a park, his Dad had lifted him onto the swing and pushed him until Charles was screaming with laughter, encouraging Seb to push him harder and higher. 

“I miss being a kid,” Charles whispered, and when he felt Dan wrap his arms around him and Max drop his head onto Charles’ shoulder, he could’ve cried. 

“You deserve to be happy Charles. Yeah you’ve made some bad mistakes and you’ve made some decisions that people don’t necessarily agree with, but it doesn’t mean that you don’t get to be happy. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a chance at a happy ending. You deserve to give yourself chance to dream and hope. One day, you’ll be looking back at this time and you’ll be thinking about how scary everything was, but it’s not going to be forever, Charles,” Dan told him, kissing his temple, “One day you’ll be centre stage in New York, Paris, Milan, London, all of them. And you’ll look out at the crowds and we’ll be there, and whether you’ve found love or whether you’re still learning to love yourself properly, it doesn’t matter. You’ll get yourself there one day, because everyone deserves a chance for a happy ending.”

“Hey, at least if this boy is French, you can finally have someone that speaks it better than Dan to practice with,” Max nudged him, and Charles smiled involuntarily. 

“Hey, you understand me just fine when I say ‘s'il te plait je peux te baiser’,” Dan joked, laughing when Charles mimed throwing up. 

“As much as I love listening to a commentary of your sex life, I hear enough of it through the walls, so if we could get back to my issues, I’d appreciate it,” Charles said. His lips curled up slightly and he saw Dan wink at Max, proud of himself for being able to make Charles laugh even a tiny bit. 

“I don’t think he’s going to fuck you over,” Max told him slowly but seriously, “But you’re right to be cautious. Just, take it slow, yeah? Don’t rush into anything, and maybe be a friend first before anything else. Offer to show him around. We’ve lived near London for 10 years, Charles, you can do that. You know how scary it is moving countries. Be a smile for him, be a friend. And if he wants to kiss you one day, let yourself be the boy he’ll fall in love with. Love is dumb, and it’s hard, and it’s complicated beyond anything I really understand. But you deserve it. You deserve to be happy. And maybe this boy is the push you need to be happy.”

Charles nodded slowly and looked up at his big brother. 

“Will you just, kinda, I guess, keep an eye on things? I’m scared I’m not going to notice if something goes wrong.”

“I’m always going to look out for you, Chubbs,” Max promised, “It doesn’t matter how old you get, you’re always my baby brother.”

“And you’re the baby that I gotta protect,” Dan quipped, ruffling Charles’ hair. 

“Okay first, I’m literally three minutes younger than you, Max, and second, Dan, stop touching my hair!” Charles whined, and when he saw the cheeky grin forming on Dan’s face, he knew he’d made a terrible decision complaining. 

Max and Dan exchanged a look and Charles braced himself instantly, doubling over when he felt their fingers tickling up his sides, digging into that spot between his 3rd and 4th ribs on his left side. 

“Mercy, mercy!” Charles shouted, laughing hard, a stark contrast to the fear he’d been feeling not too long prior.

“I’m sure you’ll be saying _merci_ to a certain Frenchie soon, won’t you, frérot?”

“Did you seriously just call me that?!” Charles admonished, wiggling his way out of Dan and Max’s grip. 

Dan grinned whilst Max looked between them, wildly confused as his brother and his boyfriend started arguing in French. 

Charles knew what Dan was doing. In the same way that he knew what Max was doing. Dan and Max had this innate connection, much in the same way Charles and Max did. An ability to know what it was that the other needed at that moment without having to say it out loud. And right now, Charles needed his brother and his brother’s boyfriend to distract him and tell him things could be good. Things could be fine. 

And if Max promised to help him, then maybe things would be fine. 

That mysterious little French boy wouldn’t break his heart, would he? He seemed nice. He smiled at Charles. Surely the mysterious little French boy would play a good part and be a good influence on his life. The pure softness in his eyes should’ve given Charles something to look forward to. 

And he couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to seeing the boy again. He looked like he would smile and warm your soul. 

Charles wondered when and where their paths would cross again…

\-- **Friday Morning - 5th June 2020** \--

As it turned out, finding that boy again wasn’t going to take long.

He and Charlotte were sat in their textiles class, bickering over who should be allowed the last roll of silver silk, when it happened.

“But I need it,” Charles argued, “If I use it, I can create the trail, and if I do that, we all know every single girl is gonna drop to their knees for it and I need validation.”

“Look, I see your point and you know I want that dress more than anything, but I refuse to let you win and I want it to create the straps on my dress. I’ve already used the fabric to create the underskirt, so it only makes sense that I be allowed to use it in order to bring the piece together.”

“I wanna do mine though,” Charles whined, smiling playfully at his bestfriend and laughed when Charlotte rolled her eyes. 

“God you are so the youngest child,” Charlotte complained, batting at Charles’ face when he pouted and gave her a wide eyed sad face, “Take it you little bitch, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Lottie,” Charles grinned, pressing a kiss to her cheek and making her laugh. 

Charlotte shoved him slightly, and normally when she did that, he was settled on his stool enough that he wouldn’t fall off it. 

Except today, either Charlotte had grown the gift of strength or Charles had seriously miscalculated his ability to dump his butt on his stool, and he fell backwards. 

He’d fallen off his stool plenty of times, had fallen asleep at the desk and smacked his forehead off the cold wood, had tripped over the realms of fabric and ended up just sewing as he lay on the floor instead, and he was used to the impact of his body against different surfaces because of it. 

But he never got this time. Instead, his back hit someone's chest.

“Oops,” a hit voice Charles’ ears and he instantly jumped as arms wrapped around his waist to stop him falling. 

He pushed himself out of the grip quickly, spinning and pushing himself to sit up onto the table. Charlotte instantly held her hand out to comfort him, looking up at Charles but not touching him and only when he nodded did she pull back. 

“Sorry about that, Charles,” Charlotte shrugged, a mask of indifference to anyone that wouldn’t know her better. 

She wasn’t sorry about nearly pushing him off the chair. They spent half of their time in their lessons pushing each other around and more time making jokes than anything else. This wasn’t anything new for them. Charlotte was instead apologising for putting Charles in a situation in which someone touched him without him knowing that it was going to happen. 

Underneath her mask of indifference, Charles could see the worry, could see the fear, could see the itch to wrap her arms around Charles’ neck and hug him tight and apologise for putting him in a situation in which his anxiety could prevail. 

Charles gently took Charlotte’s hand in his and smiled, shaking his head to tell her he was okay. 

“Sorry about that,” Charles said, and when he looked up at the person who had caught him, his heart stopped. 

It was the mysterious French boy. 

At least, Charles really hoped he was French because he kept calling him French in his head and this was going to be really embarrassing if he wasn’t. 

“It’s okay,” the boy smiled, brushing his hand through his hair as he looked up at Charles on the table. 

“Are you sat on the table for a particular reason Mr London College of Fashion student?” Amy asked, coming up behind them and peering round at him. He saw the same worry on Amy’s face that he’d seen on Charlotte’s. 

Charles only ever sat on tables when he was trying to get away from people being near him. 

“I nearly fell off my stool,” Charles shrugged, “I pushed myself up here when he caught me.”

“And you are okay?” She asked, but Charles knew what she was truly asking was ‘do you need a moment to step outside?’. 

“I’m good,” he promised, smiling in a way that he hoped reassured them both. 

“Sorry that I fell onto you, anyway.”

“It’s okay,” The boy grinned, “You already said sorry, is not like you punched me in the face.”

Charles flinched at the words minutely. Of course this boy wouldn’t know, he’d only been at their school a few days, it didn’t mean it didn’t scare Charles when he heard the boy talk about violence so casually. 

“Yeah well, I don’t make it a habit to fall onto people,” he shrugged instead. 

“I do not mind, is not like you meant to. I understand it was an accident.”

Charles flushed under the boys watchful gaze and looked down, kicking his feet back and forth. 

“Do you, are you an art student or something?” Charles asked, “I just, I remember seeing you in art the other day, and now you’re here.”

“Ah,” the boy grinned bashfully, “No. I am just here to take photos of the Fashion clothes in the making. I’m trying to catch up on the coursework and I am doing ‘the unfinished’. So, I was just hoping to capture some pictures for my Photography class, I’m on a free period right now.”

“Oh, cool,” Charles smiled. 

Of course the mysterious little French boy had to be arty. The world really did want him to fall in love with this boy, didn’t it?

“That’s cool, do you, like, wanna take some photos of our stuff?” Charles offered, ignoring the way both Charlotte and Amy turned to look abruptly at him. 

Charles never let anyone see his unfinished works, and he certainly never let anyone photograph it. 

“If it is not a problem, you are working with beautiful fabrics. Do you mind if I take some photos of your hands too?” he asked, and Charles smiled up at him confusedly. 

“My hands aren’t art?”

“They create the art, you are the pilot, you are the art. I would like to document that too. You creating your art,” he explained, and Charles felt himself lose his breath. 

Holy shit this boy was amazing. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine,” Charles nodded, moving over to the sewing machine and picking up his materials again, leaving the silver silk behind on the table. He couldn’t use that right now. Working with silk required him to be of sound mind so as not to mess up and distort the fabric, and right now, his mind was short-circuiting and he was very close to grabbing the boy by the jaw and planting a kiss straight onto his lips. 

He tried to ignore the presence of the boy watching him, tried to ignore the way his hands shook slightly as he adjusted the foot of the machine, threading a contrasting bright yellow thread into the machine and picking up the black nylon material. Charles didn’t know entirely what he was making, more he was letting the fabric guide him. But Charles loved working with contrasting colours, to mix the bold with the subdued. It was almost as though it was his mind pouring out, with every push on the pedal another thought left his mind. 

His hands carefully pushed the fabric through, guiding it and twisting it slightly when he wanted to bunch the fabric to create ripples in the fabric. 

_‘I am not weak’_

_‘I deserve a happy ending’_

_‘Mick was wrong’_

_‘I’m allowed to smile’_

“You are amazing,” the boy whispered, pulling Charles out of his head. He’d forgotten the boy was there. “I’ve never seen someone so at tune with the materials, your mind is wonderful.”

Oh if only he knew just how unwonderful Charles’ brain was. 

“Nah,” Charles denied, “It’s just knowing what works.”

“You’re very talented,” the boy told him, and Charles had never heard someone unconnected to him speak with so much authenticity, “Your hands and your skills are unparalleled. You have a gift.”

Charles flushed and raised his shoulder, burying his face slightly in the pooled front of his hoodie. 

“Thanks, can I, can I see what you took?”

“Of course,” the boy smiled, dropping down to squat beside Charles as he pulled his camera from around his neck and flicked to the pictures he’d taken. 

Charles looked down at him, saw the way his dark hair was slightly pulling through against the blonde streaks, a chain was caught around his neck and disappearing under his grey t-shirt, his long legs encased in black skinny jeans. 

He looked like every other boy in existence. 

But Charles didn’t think anyone had ever worn such a simple outfit with such beauty. 

The boy passed his camera up to Charles, running his hands through his hair and over the back of his neck nervously. 

“I’m sorry if they are not very good, I wish I could capture your talent better.”

Charles ignored him, tapping through the photos and his jaw dropped. They were a mixture of coloured and black and white, but the photo that caught Charles the most off-guard was the final one. The one of him straightening his fabric again as he pushed it through the machine, his hands imposing on the machine in a way that screamed power. 

Charles was in control. 

He grinned involuntarily. 

“These are amazing, you talk about me having a talent, but you’re amazing, you’re really good at this,” Charles told him, and when the boy grinned up at him, Charles felt his heart and his mind slow.

Fucking hell he got more beautiful with every passing second. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, smiling up at Charles somewhat nervously. 

Charles opened his mouth to respond, to try and tell this boy just how much his photography meant to Charles. He’d never seen his work captured like this before and seeing the way the boy had caught it so simply made him want to commission this boy to take every photo of him and his artwork ever, whether it be the fabrics or the paints. He wanted this boy to be the one to capture the artwork. He understood it in a way no one else did. He understood how to frame it, to not move the work and still capture something beautiful. 

But of course, as happened with everything in Charles’ life, he was cut off by his teacher shouting for him. 

Charles passed the camera back to him, smiling as their fingers brushed against the others. 

“I hope to see more of your photography one day,” Charles murmured, pushing himself up off his chair and pulling his fabrics into his arm. 

“I hope to see more of your art one day,” he replied, and Charles ducked his head as he nodded. 

“I hope so too.”

Charles went to walk away, to push past the boy and return to reality, to move out of his bubble of sanctity and happiness. 

“Wait,” the boy said, grabbing Charles’ arm. 

Charles yanked his arm free and the boy dropped his hand. Charles didn’t see a difference on his face, didn’t see him raise an eyebrow or change his demeanour at Charles ripping his arm free. 

“Can I know your name?”

“It’s Charles, just Charles. Nothing special.”

“Well hi, ‘just Charles’. I’m 'just' Pierre.”

And Charles didn’t think he’d ever heard a more beautiful name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN WE ALL COLLECTIVELY SCREAM NOW?
> 
> THANK YOU.
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback are always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to fucking yeet me for making you wait until the second to last line to find out lmao


	2. Common Sense - June 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for how excited you all were about Charles and Pierre🥺
> 
> I was so nervous posting that chapter and I cannot tell you how much it meant to me receiving all of those screaming comments, it really made me smile🥺🥺
> 
> I hope you enjoy this❤️
> 
> This chapter is set about a week after the previous one
> 
> **CW: Mentions of panic attacks and depression**

\-- **Tuesday 23rd June 2020** \--

Charles had always been one of the popular kids. They’d lived in numerous countries, attended numerous schools, and when Seb and Kimi used to take him to their work places, he’d naturally charm the hell out of everyone he met. 

He was naturally charismatic. Had an ability to be able to strike up conversation with anyone. He wasn’t shy or anxious around people, and he knew how to defend himself. He was stubborn to the end of time. And he’d always liked sleeping around. That made him popular. 

He had a boyish charm to him. The beginnings of facial hair tugging at his skin, green eyes that smouldered, dark hair that was always impeccable. His lips would turn up slightly in a smirk and all he had to do was blink slowly and people wanted him. 

People wanted to sleep with him and people wanted to be friends with him. 

And now people wanted him just so they could say they were associated with the kid who was a fucking mess. 

The people who had been his ‘friends’ had shown their colours when he’d started to withdraw, when he’d stopped going to parties and sleeping with a new person two, three, four times a week. And when Charles had his first panic attack at school, Max had clutched onto his hands to stop him ripping at his skin and Dan had held his head in his hands to stop him trying to bang his head and escape. His ‘friends’ had walked past, stared at him, and carried on walking. 

Charles knew he should’ve just been grateful that they didn’t laugh at him. 

And when they’d started to distance themselves, Charles hadn’t known what to do, and he was starting to understand what Max had meant by the fact that making friends was actually _hard_ sometimes. Charles wasn’t sure how to make friends, they’d always just… been there? People gravitated towards him and he’d welcomed it with open arms. And yet now he _had_ to make friends, he was definitely a bit lost on what to do. 

But Max knew that. And whilst they didn’t spend all their time together, the twins found that actually being in school together wasn’t the hardest or the worst thing in the world. And when Charles paid attention, his brother was actually kind of popular in his own little way. He didn’t really have many friends, but when Charles saw him coming out of class, people waved goodbye and actually talked to Max. Max may not have really understood it, but those people were his friends too in their own way. 

And turns out, Max and his friends were actually pretty great. 

Charles knew Max spent a lot of time alone still, he was still the kind of person that needed to be by himself a lot. Too many people stressed him out. Too much stimulation. It overwhelmed his brain and freaked him out. But he'd also grown used to Daniel being around, and he'd started to come out of his shell more and more when Daniel had been at school to hold his hand and show him the world wasn't that scary if you believed you had the power to manage it. However since Daniel had finished school, he was alone more so than he’d gotten used to, and now Max hung out with that trio of British kids that were actually pretty funny. 

Lando was absolutely insane, and they were currently in the process of trying to convince him that yes, whilst he would look good with a shaved head, he will probably cry too much when it happens and maybe he should hold off. 

George was… well, it was complicated with George. George and Charles had some old issues from back when they were in year 10, when they were fifteen, when Charles had made a decision that ended with George detesting his existence for probably the rest of his life. But they got along somewhat okay, probably because George was seeing a new side of Charles these days beyond him just being that whore that slept around. 

And Alex. 

Ah, Alex. 

God, Charles had had such a crush on him back in the day. 

Back when he was fifteen. That was the reason George hated him. 

They’d been at a party, and Charles didn’t really remember much of it, he’d been pretty drunk. He remembered playing spin the bottle, and he remembers the way that he’d rigged it to allow him to kiss Alex. He kissed Alex before anyone could make a comment and he’d pulled the other boy into him, holding his jaw and pressing his lips against his own. They’d kissed for longer than Charles had ever expected, and when he’d pulled away, he’d seen the glare that George sent his way. 

Alex was one of the first people that Charles had ever had a proper crush on, and yet he didn’t know how to deal with it. 

And so when he pulled back, he’d traced his finger down Alex’s body, smirking when he felt him shiver under his touch and Charles grinned sleazily. He didn't know how to do cute, how to do romantic. He was just used to people wanting his body and if that was the best way to get Alex to fall for him he'd do it. He wanted to know what it was like to have Alex Albon smile at you like you was precious. 

“We can take this to a bedroom, if you want?” Charles had whispered, just loud enough for George to catch. 

Alex had nodded and accepted Charles’ hand up, the two of them ‘sneaking’ away to have fun alone. 

Charles had dropped to his knees the second he pressed Alex into a vacant room, sucking him off until Alex was gripping onto his hair and gasping shakily. 

And that had been it. 

Charles had hoped something would’ve come out of it, maybe even suggesting that they met up to do it again. 

Yet when he’d offered, Alex had blushed, stuttered and Charles backtracked. 

“I’m sorry, I really liked it, and you definitely helped me realise I’m into boys. But I kinda have a thing for George, and I don’t want to string you along,” Alex explained, and Charles tried to hold in the feeling of his heart breaking. 

“No yeah, this was just for fun anyway, don’t worry about it,” Charles had shrugged, smirking at Alex to hide the way everything hurt, “Glad to be of service anyway. You know where to find me if you need a helping hand, or mouth, again.”

He’d never told anyone about his crush on Alex, and Charles wasn’t into Alex anymore anyway. He really wasn’t. He liked the way he cared about people and he was really funny, and they played on Playstation a lot together these days, along with George, Lando and Max (Dan could normally be heard through Max’s headset anyway, the fucker was always here even if he was terrible at video games and so didn’t play that often with them). And he and Alex had a great friendship now. Charles could often be heard convincing Alex to commentate on what he was doing, and when Seb and Kimi had finally caved and bought the twins a racing simulator, Alex had been one of the first to come over and race against Charles on it. 

It didn’t mean that when he saw Alex and George sat together and he saw the look of absolute love and adoration that came Alex’s way from George that his heart didn’t hurt slightly. 

But these days, it hurt in the same way his heart hurt when he saw the look of absolute love and adoration that came Max’s way from Daniel. 

They got looked at in the same way Lewis looked at Valtteri, in the same way his Dads looked at each other. 

Charles wanted that. He wanted someone to look at him like he was the most precious person on the planet and he wanted to know what it was like to fall asleep in the arms of someone you loved. 

Charles wondered if he’d still have his nightmares then. 

Either way, Charles was tired. He wanted to be able to experience happiness and he wanted to be able to experience love. He’d thought relationships weren’t for him, and he’d still broken up more relationships than he could count, and honestly, they seemed like something he wouldn’t do good in. But he wanted to try. He’d had pointless childish relationships growing up. The kinds where you date for a few weeks but only ever talked to each other via other kids in the playground, and held each other’s hand on the walk to assembly, but that was it. 

Charles didn’t have experience of ‘grown up’ relationships. And he didn’t really know how you was meant to go about them. 

And yet Pierre was on his mind a lot and Charles wondered whether it would be that soft French boy that gave him that experience. 

His head was pillowed on his arms, his eyes closed as he listened to Max and Alex bicker about something in German. Charles knew if he paid attention he’d know what they were arguing about, but he couldn’t be bothered to work it out and frankly he was tired. He’d spent most of the night curled up on the sofa downstairs, afraid to close his eyes as every time they shut, a pair of blue eyes trampled through his vision. And instead of going to his Dads or his brothers like he should’ve done, he needed to be alone for a little bit instead. 

A little bit had turned into a few hours, and before Charles knew it, his Dad was coming down to get ready for work. Seb had pulled Charles into his arms, running his fingers through Charles’ hair and smiling when he saw Charles watching Disney movies. 

“Cars, again?” Seb grinned, and Charles shrugged. 

“I only watched it probably twenty-seven thousand times as a kid, thought it was time for a re-watch.”

He hadn’t been tired at the time, and in his first period French class, he’d been able to answer every question that Carole threw his way without hesitation. But he was tired now, and the idea of paying attention to anything at all just wasn’t fun. 

Charlotte was sat beside him, stroking his hair as he tried to have a nap, the sound of Max and Alex arguing and George trying to convince Lando not to shave his head becoming white noise as he slowly started to fall asleep. 

“Alright, mate,” George said, Charles’ eyes were still closed, yet the second he heard his voice his eyes shot open. 

“Hello, I was wondering if I can ask you a question?” Pierre said, and Charles shot up, looking at the nervous-looking French boy. 

“Sure, what’s up?” George told him. 

“I am confused about where we are supposed to find the homework, Matt said it was online but I don’t understand.”

“Oh, yeah no worries, go onto the sixth form homepage on your phone,” George told him, and when Pierre sat down beside him to get George’s help, Charles couldn’t take his eyes off him. 

Eventually Pierre stood up, thanked George and looked across, finally seeing Charles buried deep in his hoodie but watching him. 

“Oh, hi, Charles,” Pierre said, waving at him slightly and making him smile. 

All his previous tiredness was threatening to evaporate simply because a cute boy smiled at him. 

“Hi,” Charles murmured, lifting his hand in a hello gesture. 

The two looked at each other for a moment longer before Pierre turned and left, looking over his shoulder much like he had one the first time they’d ever met, catching Charles’ eye again and the two of them blushed when they saw the other looking. 

“Is that him?” Max asked, looking intensely at Charles. 

Charlotte’s fingers were still carding through his hair and he felt her fingers scratch across his scalp in a very satisfying way that caused him to nod with a blissful smile. 

He watched Max look across to George, and George shrugged. 

“Pierre’s proper nice. He sits on my table in Media,” George confirmed. 

“He’s a good person, isn’t he?” Max asked.

“Max!” Charles shouted. He knew he’d asked Max to look out for him, but he was still going to complain when Max went into Big Brother mode and protected him. 

He was a stubborn little shit, he had to complain. 

That was the perks of being the baby of the family. 

“He’s alright, yeah, quiet though. Keeps to himself a bit because he’s a bit nervous about his English and his accent, you know how it is, but he’s cool,” George nodded, “He’s pretty funny as well, if I’m honest.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. He’d never heard Pierre be funny. Why had George heard him be funny? When? What had he done?

Oh... 

Is this what jealousy feels like?

Charles frowned and dropped his face to be buried in his arms. 

He wasn’t allowed to feel jealousy. It’s not like he and Pierre were friends or anything. Pierre had taken one photo of his hands, it didn’t automatically make Pierre his. 

And he wouldn’t ever want Pierre to think that Charles was the kind of possessive bastard who wouldn’t let him have other friends. Dan was possessive of Max, but not in a way that meant Max was in _danger_ or anything. It was more that Dan loved to mark Max’s neck and show people that Max had a boyfriend. He never stopped Max talking to people or going out without him, and he never made Max tell him where he was going or what he was doing. They had a level of trust and respect between them and that’s what Charles wanted. 

The only issue was he didn’t know how to have that. 

He wasn’t used to having trust in people, and he wasn’t exactly the kind of person you trusted. 

Charles broke up people’s relationships, he used them for his own personal gain, and he didn’t exactly act like the best person in the world. 

This was why a boy like him didn’t get a happy ending. He wasn’t a good person. And no one deserved to deal with the fucking warzone that was Charles’ head. Especially not someone like Pierre, who seemed soft and gentle, free of trauma and able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming and clutching onto his stuffed penguin toy, sobbing into the matted fur. He hadn’t touched the toy for years, too busy trying to be a grown up and not need something like that. But the penguin gave him sanctity, gave him security, and actually, Charles knew now that there was nothing wrong with having a stuffed toy to keep you safe. 

He had no idea where the penguin came from, he knew he’d been young, and he remembered going to the toy store and watching Max pick out his stuffed lion. But he’d already been clutching the penguin in his fingers by then, and he couldn’t remember where it came from. 

Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that now the penguin gave him comfort, and in those days that Charles couldn’t get out of bed because his head was fighting his heart, weighing him down and left him in a position in which he wasn’t strong enough to stop the darkness from winning, the penguin was his closest friend. 

“You alright?” Charlotte asked, scratching the short hairs at bottom of Charles’ head. 

“Do you think he’s nice?” 

“Yeah I do,” Charlotte nodded, dropping her head onto the table and looking at Charles, “And I think you know it too. Even amidst all that worry and all that fear, you know he’s a nice guy. He won’t break your heart, Charles.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t break his,” Charles admitted, looking up at Charlotte. 

“No one will blame you if you’re not ready for anything, Charles. You went through some shit, don’t try and be recovered if you’re not ready.”

“I’m tired of my life being run by him,” he told him, “I’m just tired of him always being in my head. I want to be able to sleep without having a nightmare. I want to be able to shake someone’s hand without ripping my hand away. I want to be able to hug someone and not feel like dirt. I don’t know how to live my life without _him_ and I’m fucking tired of it.”

Charlotte wrapped her arms around Charles, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“It’s been five months,” he sobbed, “I should be over it.”

“There’s no timeframe for trauma recovery, Charles. Stop forcing something onto yourself that doesn’t exist.”

“I want it to all be over, Charlotte, I’m tired of fighting it.”

“Keep fighting, baby,” Charlotte whispered, “You’re strong, I believe in you. You’re my best friend for a reason. You’re brilliant, you’re strong, you’re funny, you’re a brat, and I love you. The darkness won’t be here forever, Charles. And you have to believe that we’ll always be here to catch you when you fall. You’re not alone.”

Charles scrapped his hands across his face, crying quietly onto Charlotte’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt Max reach out and take his free hand in his, gently squeezing it, and when he felt a hit to his trainer, he opened his eyes and looked across at Alex. 

“You’re family, Charles, we protect each other,” Alex promised, smiling at him. 

Charles smiled through his tears, nodding slightly before closing his eyes again and dropping his head back onto Charlotte’s shoulder. 

He wasn’t alone, and he would be okay. They had him. They’d always have him. 

Maybe trying this thing with Pierre, being a friend to him, wouldn’t actually be the worst thing in the world. And he knew George could be pretty brutal with his ability to argue with people, and if Pierre was on his table for media, maybe Alex would convince George to argue with Pierre if he made Charles sad. 

The idea made him laugh. 

Maybe he was allowed to smile and laugh and not feel guilty. He could be okay. 

They’d make sure he was okay. They wanted him to be okay. 

That’s what family was, and Charles was starting to see was that actually this friendship circle was a better family than the idiots he’d used to surround himself with. They’d been a good set of friends, but they weren’t the kind of people you really wanted to be surrounding yourself with all the time. And Charles got that now. 

He still occasionally smiled at Antonio, but the others didn’t really want anything to do with him, and frankly, Charles didn’t care. Charles was seeing how destructive they’d been to each other, and his liver definitely wasn’t complaining about not associating with them anymore. It was nice not to spend half his days wondering who it was he’d slept with and ending his nights being blackout drunk, stumbling home in the early hours of the morning to Max’s resigned attitude. Charles felt better health wise these days, and it was all because the people he thought were his people didn’t care anymore. 

Charles thought the day that happened he’d be lost and hurt, but in fact, Charles thought it was perhaps the best thing to happen. The British trio, his brother, and Charlotte, and maybe even Pierre one day, were the kind of people that he knew his Dad wished he’d always surrounded himself with. 

And Charles wouldn’t say it to his face, but his Dad was right about that. 

~~~~

Free periods made Charles want to scream. Most of his free periods seemed to be spent in subject support, getting help with his coursework, but now that they were coming to the end of the school year, Charles didn’t really have any written coursework to do. Most of his work was prep work for year 13, and his art and textile portfolios were a constant work-in-progress. And normally Max joined him for their free period on a Tuesday after lunch, except he was in a Dutch speaking exam and therefore Charles was left to suffer by himself. 

Yes, he was aware he was being dramatic. 

No, he didn’t want to change his attitude. 

He didn’t take criticism for this. 

Charles ran his hands across his face and dropped his head onto his sketchbook. Charles tapped his pencil against the back of his head, hoping that the more he smacked himself with it, the more likely it was that the inspiration would hit him. He knew what he wanted to do, he just couldn’t execute it properly, and he didn’t know how he was meant to get it onto the paper. 

He was meant to be creating a dress, and he knew he wanted it to be a vivid red, an exposed front up to the mid-thigh and pointed shoulders. He just couldn’t work out how to make that make sense. 

And he really wanted to scream very loudly. 

But he had manners, his Dad had taught him that at the very least, and he would hold in his screaming for when he got home. And maybe his Isä could help him to work out how he wanted to design it anyway. It wasn’t his style, Kimi was more of a block artist than a detailed fashion artist, but he had an amazing talent for anything he turned his hand to, and he’d helped Charles before with his artwork. He just hoped Isä would know how to help him again. 

“Are you okay?”

Charles looked up sharply, saw the way Pierre was looking at him with concern evident. 

“Just struggling with getting my drawing together,” Charles told him, smiling at him and shrugging, “Art block, you know how it is. You wanna sit down?”

Pierre smiled and pulled out the seat opposite, falling to sit opposite Charles, laughing at the way Charles never lifted his head properly and was digging his chin into his sketchbook. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Pierre asked, and Charles simply shook his head. 

“Nah, I’ll work it out eventually. I’m just bored and my brother has left me because he had a speaking exam out of school, and so I have to wait for him to come back before I can go home anyway.”

“Do you not have anymore lessons today?”

“Nope,” Charles shrugged, “I finish all my lessons by lunch, but because our Dad picks us up, I have to wait for Max. Normally I end up hanging in the art rooms anyway to get extra work done so it’s not too bad.”

“Why aren’t you there now?”

“I needed a break from everyone asking me if I’m okay.”

“Why would they keep asking?”

“I was just in a mood this morning, bad night sleep, so everyone was being worried about me and stuff.”

“I’m sorry you had a bad night,” Pierre said, and Charles saw the way that he actually did look sorry for Charles. 

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, “How are you anyway? Settling in okay?”

“It has been easier than I thought, everyone is very nice,” Pierre said and Charles smiled. He was glad Pierre was okay. 

“So what do you study then, you seem arty?” Pierre asked, and Charles blushed under his watchful gaze. 

“Er, Art, Textiles, French and English. I’m not very good at English, but I need it for uni so…” he shrugged. 

“Wow,” Pierre said, raising his eyebrows, “You must be good. Do you ever show off your art and textiles work, or not? I know art can be pretty personal sometimes.”

Charles smiled to himself. He got it. This boy got it. And God did Charles want to never stop talking to him. He knew it was personal, he knew art could be an extension of yourself, and he knew showing off art wasn’t as easy as it sounded sometimes.

“Sometimes, I get nervous in case people think it’s shit.”

Pierre laughed slightly and nodded, 

“God I feel that. I hate showing people my photography sometimes. If I photograph someone, I’ll always show them the pictures because I don’t want them to worry about what I’ve taken of them, but it terrifies me.”

“What is it you study?” Charles asked. He never wanted Pierre to stop talking. His voice was soothing, like a warm hug wrapping around your heart and squeezing it tight, telling you he would keep you safe. 

“Media, photography and PE. I’m not very academic,” he blushed. 

Oh fucking hell Charles was really starting to fall for this boy. 

“Me neither,” Charles admitted, “My twin brother is a literal genius and he studies four A-Levels in school, and then two subjects just for fun outside of school which my Dad pays for private lessons for, and so he helps me with my English work or I’d drown in it. They’ve just worked out I-” Charles cut himself off before he could tell Pierre he had a learning difficulty. 

It wasn’t that he was _embarrassed_ that he had dyslexia or anything, it was more that he was worried Pierre might be a bit of a dick and be perhaps a bit cruel. Charles could read and he could write, it was just a bit fucking difficult sometimes. And he didn’t need someone to call him stupid for that. He did enough of that himself. 

“Worked out what?” Pierre enquired, and Charles just shook his head, pulling away and flicking his pencil between his fingers, spinning it and then drawing back in his sketchbook again. Maybe if he spun the line to flick in a harsher right-angle than a soft one, it would work better.

“It doesn’t matter. Is it photography you want to do forever? You seem really invested in it,” Charles said, his eyes fixed on his work and the way the red starting to come to life at just the flick of some colour on the paper. 

“Yeah!” Pierre said, and when Charles looked up, he saw the way that Pierre’s eyes had brightened considerably, “I’d love to do either fashion or art photography, or sports photography. I can’t make up my mind at the minute.”

“You should talk to my brother; his boyfriend was the captain of the football team. He can probably model for you sometime if you want to get any practice. And by probably, I mean he definitely will. He loves being in front of the camera,” Charles told him, trying to appear nonchalant even though his heart was a hummingbird in his chest.

“That would be amazing!”

“No problem. We’re going on playstation tonight, I can ask him then if you want?”

“Charles,” Pierre murmured, and Charles looked up, dropping his pencil to look at Pierre properly and not for a fleeting glance, “You are the best.”

Charles blushed, feeling the fire rise from within and the warmth that he’d thought of earlier was decorating his skin, warming him under Pierre’s gaze. 

“It’s not a problem, honestly. If you want, I mean, do you play videogames and stuff?”

“Love them,” Pierre smiled. 

“Do you have playstation?”

Pierre nodded. 

“If you promise not to laugh at my name, we can exchange tags if you want? You can play with us sometime? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d offer. You seem cool, and I'd like to be friends if you want.” 

Charles’ heart was threatening to expand and explode in his chest, and he hoped he wasn’t coming on too strong. He really was just trying to be friends with Pierre, and videogames were an excellent way of keeping a barrier that helped him to settle into a new world. He’d done the same with the British trio, and it had been massively helpful in helping him to settle into a friendship with them. 

“I would never laugh at you, Charles,” Pierre promised, “I’d love to play with you sometime.”

Charles smiled and nodded slowly. He reached into his backpack and pulled his English book out, ripping a corner of paper free and scribbling his gamertag and after a moments hesitation, he wrote his phone number too. 

“Here,” he passed it across, “I put my number too. If you ever want someone to show you around, I’m happy to help.”

Charles watched the storm of emotions flying through Pierre’s eyes, saw them settle into a soft emotion that left him cradling the paper like it was a piece of glassware and not the phone number of some random worthless boy. 

“Thank you, Charles,” Pierre said. 

And Charles knew he meant it. He smiled softly and Charles truly didn’t think he’d ever seen someone look at him the way Pierre was looking at him. 

And he wasn’t sure if that was good or not. 

~~

Charles was the last to join their party that night, and when he heard the sound of retching, he knew that the British trio had been subjected to the sounds of his brother and Dan flirting with each other. 

Seriously those two really need a lesson in how to have appropriate behaviour over their headsets because Charles didn’t think he deserved to constantly have this behaviour exposed to him. He was a baby after all. 

“Daniel please stop flirting with my brother a moment I’m having a crisis and it’s all your fault.”

“Excuse me?!” Daniel’s voice came through the headset, and everyone else confused voices followed after it.

“I flirted with a cute boy and I used you as a way of trying to get him to hang out with me but I worded it a bit weirdly and now he’s going to take photos of you,” Charles spat out, saying it fast and without breath before any of the others could interrupt him. 

“He’s going to what?!” Max screamed, and Charles rolled his eyes at Max’s possessive nature coming through. 

“SACRIFICE YOUR BOYFRIEND I NEED HIM TO BE PHOTOGRAPHED SO THE CUTE BOY WILL FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!” Charles argued back. 

“Why do you need my boyfriend?!”

“Well we don’t exactly do any sport do we?! And he wants to do sport photography!” 

“You’re not using my boyfriend!”

“Actually Maxy, I’m going to do it,” Daniel laughed, interrupting the twins argument before it could escalate, “I want to meet the boy your brother is falling in love with.”

“I’m not falling in love with him!”

“Yes you are!”

Charles wasn’t impressed when he heard Max, Dan, Lando, George, and Alex all shout back that he was. 

He really needed new friends. And a new brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> They seem happy, don't they 
> 
> :)
> 
> Also I had to sneak in a lil Charles being a sad angsty teenager with his first heartbreak being Alex. I've fallen head over heels for their friendship this past week and I love them with my entire heart
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr at 3303andmore if you want to come and idk hang out or smth


	3. He Could Be The One - Start of July 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my fave simplyverstappen/vertsappened/mone for translating the German bits for me, you're a legend🥺
> 
> I told myself I wasn't going to try and make this a chapter a day thing but alas here I am writing and uploading a 9k chapter in the same day lmao
> 
> CW: Depression, suicidal thoughts

\-- **Friday 26th June 2020** \--

Pierre   
  
it’s 5:13am and I’m convincing myself to go for a run. pray for my lungs   
  
Why are you going for a run so early?   
  
cant sleep, brain is being icky, need to stretch my legs   
  
Will it take you long to get to Trent Park?   
  
no, like 10 mins why?   
  
Meet me there, I’ll come for a run with you if you want   
  
I’ll be there by 5:45   
  


Charles smiled and held his phone against his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment. It had only been a couple of weeks since he’d met Pierre, but he and Pierre had become quick friends. And whilst Charles was starting to nurture a small crush for him, he didn’t want anything further. Not yet.

Sure, his brothers wound him up about it, and Dan had this modelling thing he was going to do for Pierre once they’d finally finished at school just so he could meet the boy his boyfriend’s twin was falling for, and he knew his Dads had caught him smiling at his phone more than once. They didn’t know, not yet. They knew about Pierre, and they probably knew he had a crush on him, but Charles hadn’t told them that yet. He was barely recovered from the mega-watt grin that Sebastian had shot him when Charles had mentioned that he’d made a new friend. 

But it didn’t mean that Charles was ready. 

The idea of being kissed, hugged, even just _holding Pierre’s hand_ terrified him. It made him want to claw at his skin and push all feeling of hands and lips touching him away. He was okay with his family touching him, and he was okay when he fell asleep in Dan’s arms or cuddled up to him when he was feeling anxious. 

He even could deal with Lewis hugging him sometimes. 

And Charlotte, bless her, she wasn’t a threat. She was one of his oldest friends and his brain was able to rationalise the difference. She was soft and flowery, and when she hugged him, her arms were narrow and warm. 

But Pierre was a boy. And boys could be dangerous. 

Boys hurt him. 

No

 _Mick_ hurt him. 

Not every boy was like Mick. 

And Pierre seemed too nice to be like Mick. 

Pierre, the soft boy with a funny smile and an understanding of art. The boy who was getting up at 5:13am to go for a run with Charles simply because Charles had told him his brain was ‘being icky’ like he was a _child_. 

Charles thought back to the first time that Pierre had text him, and quickly scrolled up. They’d talked a fair bit, but it still took only a minute or so to scroll to the top of their chat.

Pierre   
  
Bonjour Charles, it is Pierre. I hope you are well   
  


It had been such a simple text message, one that really wasn’t all that special, and yet Charles had stared at it for minutes. A small smile had worked its way onto his face and he remembered how his heart had stopped for a moment. It really wasn’t that special of a text, but the fact that Pierre _wanted_ to text him filled his heart with happiness.

Charles had stared at the message for a little while, before texting back:

Pierre   
  
Bonjour Charles, it is Pierre. I hope you are well   
  
Hi Pierre I’m good hope you are too mate   
  


Charles still couldn’t believe he had text him. And every time after that he’d seen his phone light up with an incoming text from Pierre, Charles felt himself grin and it would cause the part of his brain that told him Pierre didn’t actually care about him slow down. Pierre wouldn’t be messaging him first if he didn’t actually care about Charles.

At least that's he what he kept telling himself. And what his therapist had told him. Ada really did end up having to repeat a lot of things to him, but Charles was glad that she did. She never got frustrated with him, and often times Charles came out of his sessions with her smiling a little bit and with laughter dying on his lips. 

But he couldn’t be thinking about this now. There was a run that needed to be had and a boy that was waiting to run with him. 

Charles quickly changed into his running gear, slid his phone into his pocket and headed upstairs. He gently knocked on the door and pushed it open. 

“You alright kid?” Seb asked, holding his arm out so Charles could climb in between them like a little boy again, his voice rough with sleep as he rubbed his eyes. 

“Yeah, just wanted to tell you I’m going for a run, I’ll be back for breakfast,” he whispered, mindful that his Isä was still sleeping beside him, and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“What’s up?”

“Not much, my brain’s being a bit weird so I was going to get some air, I’m just going to run around Trent.”

“Alright kid,” Seb murmured, running his fingers over Charles’ hair that wasn’t covered by his bandana, “You got your phone?”

Charles showed him his phone was in his pocket and that his location services were turned on. 

“Have a good run, Charles,” Seb said, his eyes heavy with sleep and kissed his forehead, “Love you, little one.”

“Love you, Dad,” Charles said, leaning into the touch for a moment before he pulled away. 

Charles wandered back downstairs, stopping at Max’s door for a moment. He peeked in, smiling when he saw Max curled up asleep in Dan’s arms. One of Dan’s hands was buried in Max’s hair, with one of Max’s hands resting against Dan’s heart and the other wrapped around his waist. 

Charles watched for a moment longer, smiled when he saw Dan’s tiny grin in his sleep and the way he cradled Max so delicately even in sleep. 

He was glad Max has someone like Dan. He was the goodness that balanced out the badness of Max’s mind.

Falling into a rhythm as he ran, Charles let every bad thought fly from his brain, smacking down onto the pavement and getting crushed under his trainers. The thoughts smashed under him, under the weight of his strength and no matter how much his brain was ‘icky’ sometimes and made him want to die, today he was fighting back. He didn’t want to let it win today. 

When he got to the park, Pierre was at the gate, his back to Charles as he stretched his leg out in front of him, holding onto the railings with his eyes closed. 

“Hey,” Charles murmured. 

Pierre spun around, and when he saw Charles, a grin broke out on his face. 

“Bonjour, frérot,” Pierre said, waving at Charles.

Charles knew that most boys their age would clap hands and pull each other into a ‘bro-hug’. However the idea of hugging another person that wasn’t in his safety net terrified him and he didn’t want to end up throwing up on Pierre’s trainers if his brain fucked him over. And with the way his brain had behaved this morning, he knew there was a distinct possibility that would happen. Instead, he kept far enough away from Pierre that hugging him wasn’t an option. 

“You ready?” Pierre asked and Charles nodded. 

He wasn’t used to running with other people. He’d occasionally tagged along with Valtteri, and he’d dragged Max out a couple of times, but when he ran with his brothers, there was always a competition in place. Nothing between him and his brothers would ever be casual if a race could be involved. And especially between himself and Max. They were twins. Compared against each other in every single way. They always had to beat each other. 

And there was a running tally on a piece of paper attached to the fridge of who had won what. 

The twins were very competitive. 

And Max was currently winning. Charles wasn’t okay with that. 

But running with Pierre was actually kind of nice? Pierre didn’t make him talk, didn’t force him to say why his brain was ‘icky’ or why he was the kind of person that didn’t do sport but used running as a coping mechanism. 

Normally, when his brain was doing this to him, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to be in bed. He wanted the curtains closed and his eyes closed and his blanket over his head and his penguin between his fingers. His school had a very good system for mental health problems, and when Charles was having these days, all that happened was his Dad or his Isä would phone up the school and Charles would be authorised his absence. 

And one of his parents would stay at home with him in case he needed anything, and Charles would spend the day just pretending the world didn’t exist. It was easier for Seb to stay at home, he could work on cases remotely, however there were days that he had to go into court or to meet clients, and it was Kimi that stayed at home with him instead. The world didn’t stop just because Charles was sad. Clocks still ticked, and phones still rang, and bad guys still needed putting away and happy people still needed tattooing. 

Sometimes, his Dads would leave him with Dan, the one person that Charles trusted implicitly beyond his family. And well, it was probably because Dan _was_ family. He and Max had been dating for nine months, and yet Charles knew he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“What’s the best route from here?” Pierre asked suddenly and Charles stumbled slightly in surprise. He’d forgotten Pierre was there. 

Pierre caught him before he could fall and Charles pushed himself out of Pierre’s grip, falling to the floor and scrapping his knee. 

“Sorry,” Pierre murmured, dropping down beside Charles.

Charles pushed himself away from Pierre, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

_He’s not Mick_

_It was an accident_

_He wasn’t the one to hurt you_

_Deep breaths, Charles, you’re safe_

“Does it really hurt?” Pierre asked, looking at him with concern and worry. 

“No, I’m fine,” Charles reassured him, “Just me being silly, don’t worry about it.”

He couldn’t tell Pierre that the pain was in his head and not in his knee. He didn’t need to know of the chaos that went on up there. 

“Are you good to still run? Or do you want to head back home?”

“I can run with it, it’s fine, it’s only a little scratch, I’ve had worse injuries,” Charles shrugged, ignoring the helping hand from Pierre and pushing himself up to his feet. 

He quickly stretched his leg out and brushed his hand over the scrape. He was fine, and he truly wasn’t in pain. This was nothing compared to the pain of what he’d gone through with _him_. And when Charles started running again, sprinting off and leaving Pierre to chase after him, the pain in his knee numbed and he was back in a better frame of mind. 

Charles ran through the park, losing himself between the trees and the birds. The sun was starting to rise, peaking between the branches and the emerging leaves throwing shadows across the pathways, and when Pierre sprinted ahead, he was encased in the shadows himself. Charles was surprised at how at ease he looked, how he welcomed them across him and was accepted into their world. 

He could never.

The shadows scared him. The darkness scared him.

Max liked darkness, he said when his head was dark it was because it was keeping him safe. 

Charles didn’t like it. The darkness reminded him of the days that he spent not with Max, the days when he was petrified for their lives. 

“Hey,” Charles said, dragging himself to a stop and hunching over slightly, his muscles screaming for a rest. 

Pierre turned slightly, grinning at Charles who was flagging behind. 

So Pierre had that same athletic smugness that Dan also had.

Holy fuck was he just falling for another version Daniel Ricciardo?!

No... Pierre seemed pure. Daniel was a child of sin. He’d seen the way Dan stuck his hand down Max’s trousers. Pierre seemed too soft to be as much of a devil as Dan was. 

And plus, Dan was kinda intense. How Max dealt with him he had no idea. Pierre was shy and quiet, the polar opposite of Dan. They did share a cheeky nature from what Charles knew of Pierre, and they had that same infectious smile that made you smile whenever you saw it.

“I want to show you somewhere special,” Charles told him, turning and making his way through the trees. He could hear Pierre following after him, and as Charles walked through the trees again, he trailed his hands across them, saying hello to his old friends. 

The trees welcomed him back into them, their leaves bristling above him, slowly moving so as to let the unseen path both light up and disappear. Charles didn’t need to see it. He’d done this route a thousand times. Had lost himself into nature more times than he could count. He felt safe here. Wide open greenery and endless realms of chance to escape, to run away from the bad guys. He could scale the trees and hide in them, clutching on like a baby koala so as not to get destroyed by the people who thought he was worthless. 

_”I am not worthless”_ echoed pitifully in his head. 

And he wasn’t. 

His brain was fighting back today. 

The war zone would not have its causality today.

Charles smiled.

The trees opened up and Charles looked back over his shoulder, checking to see if Pierre was still following him. 

He was.

He trusted Charles.

Charles felt a warmth spread through him. He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone trust you implicitly. 

When they escaped the trees, Charles waited for Pierre. He stood silently for a moment, taking the chance to close his eyes and breathe for a moment. 

The world wasn’t stifling him and for once, he could feel all his nervous energy and anxiety and fears evaporate. 

Whether it was because he had Pierre by his side or whether it was simply because he was allowing himself to slow down and not feel guilty for it, Charles didn’t know. But when he felt Pierre come up beside him and their knuckles brush lightly against each other’s, Charles felt himself breathe a little easier.

He pulled his hand away before anything more could happen and opened his eyes. 

“This is the first place my Dads ever brought us when we moved to England,” Charles murmured, “It was just after Christmas the year we turned seven, and Dad got the opportunity to come and work in London. We’d been moving around Europe for the last three years or so, living in a few different countries. And coming here, it always felt different. I remember stepping off the plane that first time and my Dad picked me and Max up, holding each of us in his arms, and I remember thinking, ‘this is going to be home’. It’s been ten years since we moved to England, and when I think about coming here, it’s like everything slows down.”

Charles walked forward and Pierre silently followed at his side. Charles pushed the little gate open and walked into the children’s playground, sitting down on the swings and pushing himself slightly. 

“Do you ever miss your grandparents?”

“Not really,” Charles shrugged, “I do miss them, but we never really stayed in the same country for that long. We lived in Germany when I was five for literally like a few weeks and then we moved to another country. I see my grandparents a few times a year, but my Dads and my brothers, they’re all the family I need. I’ve done some shitty things in my time, but they still love me.”

“Of course they do,” Pierre grinned, “You’re amazing.”

“I’m really not,” Charles frowned, looking down at his trainers and sighing. 

Pierre looked at Charles, but didn’t say anything. 

Was that good or bad?

He didn’t get a chance to consider it further when his phone vibrated in his pocket. 

Pulling his phone out, Charles skimmed his eyes over the text on his lock screen. It was Max asking if he was okay. 

“I need to be getting back,” Charles murmured. Even though he wanted to stay here forever, in the open wild, in a place where he felt calm and peace and there was nothing to do other than sit and think. 

“That’s fine,” Pierre agreed, and Charles almost wished he’d said no. Wished he’d have said ‘let’s stay still for a bit longer’. Wished he had an excuse for staying in the place where he felt no responsibility and no worries. 

“Want me to walk you home? I still need to run for a bit longer anyway,” Pierre shrugged, and Charles didn’t know if there was the beginning of blush climbing up his face or whether it was the shadows playing tricks on him. 

“If you want, I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“It’s fine, I’d like to.” 

Charles pushed himself up off his swing and started to lead Pierre back out of the park. 

“Oh, Dan asked me to tell you that if you still want to do that photography stuff of him and that, he has a football match on Sunday, and me and Max are going to be there because Max has a thing for Dan in his football kit,” Charles grimaced slightly at the fact that he had seen Max’s eyes gloss over whenever he saw Dan bend down to readjust his shin pads or pull his socks up higher on his legs, “So if you want to come with us, that’s cool.”

“That’d be good, I’d really like that.”

“You’ll also get to finally witness just how much my brother adores his boyfriend, so I would recommend preparing yourself emotionally because those two in the same proximity means you might see one of them grope the other, which is a bit disgusting, but you also get used to it.”

Pierre laughed and nodded slowly,

“Okay? Little bit scared now.”

Charles sighed and looked dramatically into the distance.

“You should be. They’re so in love with each other, it’s horrific.”

The soft smile on Charles’ face however showed that actually he adored seeing his brother in love with Dan. As disgusting as they were, they were actually adorable. Max would often be on Dan’s lap or curled into his side, and on the days that Charles forced Max to come and play video games, he’d sit on the floor, framed by Dan’s legs as Dan ran his fingers through his hair. Max would often drop his head backwards and look up lovingly at Dan, and Charles knew that his brother was doing to spend the rest of his life with the weird sports boy. 

“So, Dan’s finished school, hasn’t he?”

“Yep. He finished his exams on the 4th of June, I think? It was like three weeks of him doing exams almost non-stop it seemed, I think he had one day the entire three week block where he didn’t have an exam. He starts at University College London in September, wants to do sports and exercise science and be some fancy fuckin’ physiotherapist or something.”

“I bet Max is proud of him, isn’t he?”

“So proud, and don’t tell the fucker this, but I’m proud of him too. He did something amazing when he fell in love with my brother, and he is probably the best thing to ever happen to my family.”

“I won’t tell him that, I’m sure he already knows though.”

“I hope not, don’t want to overinflate his ego anymore,” Charles laughed and Pierre shook his head. 

“I like that you get along with your brother’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah, he’s a dickhead but he’s alright I guess.”

“I like how close you are to your brothers too, it must be nice having people to grow up with.”

“Yeah, I mean, me and Max are twins so we only know life with each other, and Valtteri’s great too. It took a while for me and Val to get used to each other, we’re really different, but it’s better these days. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Pierre shook his head.

“Just me and Papa,” he said, and with the finality of his tone, Charles knew not to ask more. He understood that sometimes there were things you wanted to keep to yourself for a while. He couldn’t exactly expect Pierre to tell him why it was just him and his Papa when he was hiding his history with Mick and why it had taken a long time for him and Valtteri to reach this level of calm with each other. 

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, running in tandem through the empty streets of their town. The sun was rising in the sky, warming their skin and painting patterns across them. 

Charles led Pierre up a private street, waving at the Aitken family as they headed past. 

“Well, this is me,” Charles said, drawing to a stop in front of his house. 

Pierre looked up, his eyebrows reaching his hairline as he took in the size of Charles’ house. 

“Merde…” Pierre murmured, looking up and Charles shuffled on the spot. “This is amazing, oh wow.”

“Yeah my Dad, he, you know, he had it built,” Charles shrugged, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. He went to private school, for fucks sake, everyone had a life like this. At least, that’s what he’d thought. 

He knew he was extremely privileged and he knew the house was good, but in the face of this boy who was wearing scuffy trainers and now Charles thought about it had been using older equipment, he felt awkward. 

Did he look like he was bragging? 

He didn’t mean to. He just didn’t think about it all. He was used to being surrounded by people that spent their holidays skiing in the alps and buying the latest iPhone. And yeah, most kids his age didn’t live in a custom built, three story modern house with floor to ceiling windows and parents that bought you a racing simulator that cost thousands just because you and your brother wanted one. 

“You must get some amazing views,” Pierre murmured, and when Charles looked at him, he didn’t see that look of someone that was exasperated by him coming from money, but rather he saw the art kid in Pierre who was thinking about the way you could use the light streaming in through the windows to capture the softness of their environment. 

“We do,” Charles told his softly, “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I go and sit in front of the windows and it’s just beautiful. It’s like nothing can go wrong when the views are this amazing.”

“I’ll see you at school, yeah?” Pierre asked, finally pulling his eyes away from Charles’ house and back to him instead. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, maybe see you at lunch or something?”

“I’ll be there,” Pierre smiled, and Charles felt his heart flutter in anticipation. 

“Okay, cool, that’s cool, I’ll see you later then,” he smiled, starting to walk backwards towards the house, never once taking his eyes off Pierre. 

Pierre smiled and waved, and Charles lingered on the doorstep for a moment before shuffling into the house, waving at Pierre before shutting the door. He turned around and shook his head when he saw his brothers and dads looking through from the kitchen to where Charles was stood. 

Seb’s mouth was dropped open, Kimi was smirking, Max had an eyebrow raised and Valtteri simply looked confused. Dan must still be in bed otherwise he knew that Dan would be grinning at him.

“Close your fucking mouths and don’t say a word,” Charles warned, going bright red under their staring. 

“My baby is growing up!” Seb cried, throwing his arms out dramatically and Charles instantly rolled his eyes at his Dad’s dramatics. 

“I’m nearly eighteen, Dad!” Charles reminded him, heading up the stairs to go and shower and get ready for school. 

“ALWAYS GOING TO BE MY BABY!” Seb shouted back and even though Charles sighed and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him because he was a dramatic teenager, hearing his Dad call him his baby still made him smile. 

It was a weird feeling, but he felt a sense of contentedness, as though no matter what, as long as his Dads loved him, the world would keep spinning and the phones would keep ringing and the sun would keep rising and setting. The world didn’t stop, and actually, that was okay. It gave Charles something to work towards. Life went on and no matter how invisible he felt some day, especially on the days that he was sad, clocks still ticked and the world simply waited for him to join it again. 

Because he always would come back to it at some point. It was nice knowing that no matter what, the world kept going. Even when Charles thought it was ending, it wasn’t. 

And he knew that if he just kept fighting, he would be able to join the world again at some point. He just needed to take a break every now and again. 

\-- **Sunday 28th June 2020** \--

Charles banged his head against the table as he waited for Dan and Max to finally come downstairs. They were meant to have left nearly ten minutes ago, and yet he should’ve known that the second he saw Max pulling Dan into the bathroom, the two of them would get distracted by the other and they’d end up running late. 

“You alright, Charles?”

Charles banged his head repeatedly against the table as he answered, 

“Yep, just waiting for Max and Dan.”

He felt his Dad card his fingers through his hair and Charles pulled his head up to glare at him. 

“Do you know how long I worked on my hair for?!”

“You look the exact same as always, kleiner, stop having a meltdown,” Seb sighed, and yet Charles leaning into his touch and also looking up with puppy eyes when Seb pulled his hand away left him to carry on doing it. 

As much as Charles complained about people touching his hair, he adored it when people played with his hair. It was soothing and calming and as though all the scary things in his head stopped running. 

“Why are you going to the game?” Seb asked, and Charles blushed and shrugged. 

“Pierre’s gonna be there,” he told him, “He’s going to take some photos of Dan so Max is going to be a possessive bastard, and I’m going to make sure my brother doesn’t touch up his boyfriend too much and scare Pierre away.”

“Scare Pierre away, huh?”

“Hmm, he seems precious, I don’t want the combined force of Max and Dan freaking him out, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, your brother and Dan can definitely be intense,” Seb agreed, but Charles could heard something more in his voice.

“What?” Charles asked shortly, looking up at him with a face void of emotion. 

“I’m just worried about you, kid, and you’ve very quickly gone from not knowing this kid to wanting to do everything with him. You went for a run with him on Friday, you don’t stop texting him, you don’t stop talking about him, and you get this adorable little smile on your face when someone talks about him. And your Dad and I, we’re just worried that it might be moving too fast for you.”

Charles sighed and dropped his head,

“It’s not like that, I’m really enjoying being mates with him and yeah he’s cute and he’s nice and he makes me smile, but it’s more that he’s the one person on this fucking planet who doesn’t know what happened to me. Who doesn’t flinch when they move too fast and immediately think they’re going to send me into an episode, who doesn’t _care_ when I got quiet or when I start moving my hands a bit more. He doesn’t notice and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t treat me different and it’s just nice to not have to deal with the shit that comes with _Mick_ all the fucking time,” Charles explained, trying to not get frustrated. 

He knew his Dads were simply looking out for him, and he appreciated his Dad making him aware that things were perhaps moving a little fast for Charles and a boy that he’d only known two and a half weeks. But Charles wasn’t lying. He simply liked having someone that didn’t know his history for once. 

He wasn’t that weird adopted kid. 

He wasn’t the little brother of Max. 

He wasn’t the whore. 

He wasn’t the freak. 

He wasn’t the nutcase. 

He was just Charles. 

That was why he’d introduced himself to Pierre as ‘just Charles’. There wasn’t anything associated with him when he was ‘just Charles’. He was simply a normal boy with normal dreams and hopes. He liked that Pierre didn’t know anything and didn’t have any preconceptions of him. It made everything easier for him. 

“I know, Charles, won’t stop us worrying, baby,” Seb promised, “But you shouldn’t be worried about him finding out, because he probably will find out one day and you should be the one to tell him. Don’t let him find out by rumours or some ill-worded sentence. Honesty makes a difference.”

“I know, Dad. Anyway, I’m going to go and tell those two to hurry up,” Charles told him, pushing away from the table and running off upstairs before his Dad could get into a further conversation with him. 

He didn’t need a reminder that he was fucked up and needed to warn people before they became friends with him. 

_Fuck_ , making friends was hard. And he knew his Dad was right, and he knew that he had to tell Pierre, but the idea of admitting that he was fucked up because he was an idiot terrified him. 

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!” Charles shouted, banging on Max’s bedroom door with his fist.

“Oh fuck, Dan!” Max shouted, and Charles banged his fist harder. 

And he kept banging on the door until Max wrenched the door open, his cheeks red and a sweat beading across his forehead. He could see Dan in his peripheral vision readjusting his shorts, fidgeting with the black material stretched across his legs, and Charles simply raised an eyebrow. 

“You done fucking? We was meant to leave twenty minutes ago.”

“Nope,” Max grinned, “I’ll just go in the changing rooms with him.”

Charles sighed and rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and heading downstairs. He heard Max and Dan laughing behind him, but he didn’t care. Charles grabbed his backpack from beside the door and slung it over his shoulder, heading out of the house and waiting for the other two on the front. 

“Right, come on Chaos, let’s go,” Dan said, slinging his arm around Charles’ neck. 

Compared to Dan, who was dressed in the red shirt of the local football team and the black shorts, Charles looked positively amazing. 

And he raised an eyebrow to let Dan know as such. 

“Alright, Chaos, stop giving that eyebrow, I know you look hot and I don’t, but I just fucked your brother in this kit, so it works for some,” Dan smirked and Charles felt a mixture of disgust at hearing _ONCE AGAIN_ about Max and Dan’s sex life, and confusion that Dan had called him hot. 

“Did you just call him hot?” Max admonished, coming up beside Dan and staring blankly at him. 

And when Dan smirked, Charles knew precisely what was going on. 

“And what of it, princess?”

“Just think it’s not fair that you call him hot when I’m right here and we all know I’m the better looking twin.”

Charles simply looked Max up and down and raised his eyebrow at him. 

“You’re wearing beige, Max, that’s a colour for Opa, not you. Maybe if you weren’t so busy getting carpet burn on your knees, you could’ve worn a better outfit.”

“Says the boy stood there in Gucci. Could you look more like a middle-class Tory?”

Charles rolled his eyes and Dan wrapped his other arm around Max’s neck, pressed a kiss to his temple and ruffling Charles’ hair even when he protested and smacked at Dan’s hand. 

“God I love dealing with you two all the time. Let’s go and meet the new love of Charles’ life,” Dan laughed, and the three of them started walking. 

Charles ignored Dan and instead pulled his phone out of his pocket to send a text to Pierre.

Pierre   
  
We’re on our way, maxiel were too busy having sex to realise people have a time frame to work with   
  
Maxiel?   
  
Let me give my brother and his boyfriend a ship name im bored   
  


~~

Watching Pierre move around the field, following Dan, following the other players, the way he would snap photos and then check, have a small smile on his face when he was pleased and nod slightly to himself, before lifting the camera again and starting the process all over again, was enamouring. Charles couldn’t take his eyes off the other boy, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. 

“You okay?” Max asked, nudging his shoulder. 

Charles looked across at him, 

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

Charles felt his smile fall from his face and he turned to Max, looking at him with wide and confused eyes. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know what I feel for him. Part of me wants to say fuck it, and let myself fall in love with him and deal with the good, the bad and the ugly. But the other part is terrified that if I do that, he’s not going to be the guy I think he is, and every little bit of progress I’ve made is going to fall apart and I’m going to fall apart because of it.”

“Dad’s worried about you.”

“Yeah he told me about it this morning. He was telling me that I should talk to him, tell him about Mick, but I dunno. I don’t think I’m ready for it. I’m not ready to admit what happened to me, not to him. I barely fucking deal with it talking to Ada and you and that, telling him, it’s almost it makes it real again. People are forgetting it happened, or at least just not caring anymore. The minute I tell him, it becomes a real thing again.”

“I think you should start small,” Max told him, “Tell him you don’t like physical contact, tell him that sometimes you get nervous about stuff. You don’t have to tell him why, but could you not tell him that sometimes thing are a bit difficult and you need a little bit of space?”

“Yeah I guess,” Charles shrugged.

His eyes were following Pierre around the field again.

“His smile's pretty,” Charles whispered.

He didn’t look at Max, didn’t want to look at him and see that know-it-all grin on his face.

“Yes, I do have a crush on him, doesn’t mean I want to do anything,” Charles admitted, and he smiled when he heard Max laugh. 

“Crushes are fine, just take care of yourself first, yeah?”

Charles nodded, dropping back to lay on the grass with his head resting against his backpack. He smiled up at Pierre when he dropped to sit beside him, crossing his legs with his knee pressing against Charles’ thigh. Max was sat on his phone, tapping away at the screen and when Charles noticed that no one was replying, he knew it’d be Max texting Dan the different inappropriate thoughts he was having. 

“Oh, can you let Dad know I’m going to nip into town after this? I need to go and get some new paint and stuff?” Charles asked Max whilst Pierre was busy looking through the photos he’d taken. 

Max nodded, turning off his messages with Dan and calling their Dad. 

Pierre nudged Charles, and Charles lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head to look at Pierre.

“Wanna take a look?” He offered, holding up his camera and Charles frowned slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t,” Pierre smiled and Charles delicately took Pierre’s cameras into his hands, their fingers brushing just like they had on the first day they’d met. 

Charles flicked through the pictures, zooming in on some of the shots. 

“Max is going to love that one,” Charles smiled softly at the picture of Dan looking off field, a happy grin on his face and love in his eyes. Charles knew that he’d been looking at Max when Max had been distracted from the game by laughing at something Charles had said.

“I’ll send him the photos. It’s his boyfriend, it’s only fair.”

“Cool, so my brother’s going to wank off to photos you took of his boyfriend.”

Pierre burst out laughing, burying his face in the crook of his elbow as he processed Charles’ words. 

“I mean that’s the greatest compliment I can receive,” Pierre grinned. 

“And on that note, I’m going to stop talking about my brother and his boyfriend. Do you wanna come into town with me to get some paint, I’ll be like a couple of hours and we can grab some coffee if you want, I’m dying for drink.”

“Yeah that’d be good.”

Charles handed the camera back to Pierre, settling back on his hands and flicking his head down to make his sunglasses fall back across his eyes. Pierre started to explain something about one of the photos, however Charles stopped listening so hard when he heard Max say, 

„Charles trifft sich mit Pierre.” 

He’d never told Max to say he was going out with Pierre, he’d asked him to tell their Dad he was going into town, but Charles knew German well enough that he knew Max wasn’t telling their Dad what he’d expected. At least he was sure he was right about what he was thinking Max had said. It was a quiet conversation, but he knew German. He knew what he was translating. 

„Bist du dir sicher, dass Pierre gut für ihn ist?” His Dad’s voice came back, and Charles frowned. 

„Ich denke schon, er scheint ein guter Kerl zu sein.” 

Holy fuck they were actually talking about him and Pierre. 

„Okay dann klar, kein Problem aber behalt ihn im Auge, okay?”

„Mach ich.”

‘I will’

As in, Max will keep an eye on him. That’s what his Dad had told him to do. Keep an eye on him or on Pierre? But Max also said that Pierre seemed like a good guy. 

When Max put his phone down, Charles turned to him and stared. 

“What?”

“You remember I speak German, right?” 

Max stared back and then shrugged. 

“You know I’m just looking out for you.”

And Charles hated to admit it, but he was glad that he was. As frustrating as it was having his brother and his Dad treat him like a baby that was unable to make his own safe decisions, knowing that they were keeping an eye on him made him smile. But he simply wouldn’t smile where Max could see it. He’d asked Max to keep an eye on things, knowing that he might miss things or he might not notice that he was doing too much too quickly, but it didn’t mean that when he did it he couldn’t complain. 

“Do you want to stick around until the end or shall we go now?” Charles asked. 

Pierre shrugged and told Charles it was up to him. 

“Is there long left?” Charles asked Max and Max shook his head. 

“Only like ten minutes, just go. Dan’s dragging me into the changing rooms anyway so I’d say go now.”

Max laughed when Charles muttered swear words under his breath. Charles pushed himself up, grabbed Pierre’s hand and tugged him up too. 

He dropped Pierre’s hand before he even thought about what he’d done, and the two lads started to walk to where they needed to be. 

“You are French, aren’t you?” Charles asked abruptly, which only served to make Pierre laugh.

“Yes, why?”

“I was just thinking about how I always call you French in my head and I’ve never thought to check.”

“Would’ve been awkward if I wasn’t French, right?” Pierre said, bumping his shoulder with Charles.

“I mean no one ever knows my nationality anyway, so I would’ve just pulled that card.”

“What is your nationality then?” Pierre asked, and Charles grinned up at him. 

“Where’s the fun in telling you that? I am a man of mystery, after all,” he grinned, tightening his grip on the straps of his backpack, “I want to keep you guessing, I am full of secrets.”

“Oh I bet you are,” Pierre agreed, and when Charles looked at him, he saw the fond yet somewhat hidden look behind his eyes. 

“I’m just one of those people that is full of surprises, I guess,” Charles shrugged. 

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence. Their town wasn’t a busy portion of London, being on the outskirts, and so even on a sunny late morning at the start of July, the streets weren’t that busy and so there really wasn’t an excuse for them to be walking as close as they were to each other. Pierre’s arm kept brushing against Charles’, and Charles felt a small victory in his heart when feeling Pierre brush against him didn’t make him want to throw up, scream, or rip his arm and skin away. 

Maybe things were getting better and maybe Pierre was part of that. 

Ada, his therapist, had told him that, one day, someone might come into his life who would help his healing process, whether it be sometime soon or in five years. He’d learn to be comfortable with himself one day and maybe another person would be part of that journey. 

Charles was starting to think it was Pierre who was going to be that person. 

He was soft, gentle, smiled at Charles like he was precious. He didn’t bat an eyelid when Charles pulled himself away from Pierre and he didn’t seem to care when Charles was quiet. 

All the reasons that he’d told his Dad. And he wasn’t lying to Max when he said he wanted to be friends with Pierre, and he knew he did have a crush on the French boy. He was definitely falling for him and he definitely did feel something for him, and he knew if Pierre asked him on a date, Charles knew he’d say yes. He just didn’t know how to deal with all of that and it was scaring him. 

He wasn’t good with people. He was stupid and he was a brat and he deserved the shit that happened to him-

No. 

He didn’t. 

He pressed the heel of his hand into forehead, between his eyebrows, trying to make those thoughts go away. 

He didn’t deserve what had happened, and his brain needed to stop telling him he did. He was a good person. He just made mistakes sometimes and he sometimes made bad decisions. 

Now his inner voice was starting to sound like Daniel Ricciardo and Charles wasn’t a fan of that. It was weird Dan being in his head. 

“Hey, this is the coffee shop I want to take you to,” Charles said when he realised his feet had stopped and he hadn’t noticed. 

Charles pushed the door open and Pierre walked in, thanking Charles and letting him go ahead to the order station first. 

Pierre was busy looking at the board that displayed the drinks on offer, with the spotlight shining down on him. It created a halo around him, lighting him up as though it was divine intervention, pointing out that he was the one who would make a difference. That Pierre was the one who would change Charles’ life for the best. 

“What’s good?” Pierre asked.

You, Charles thought.

“How kind of a coffee drinker are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Strong or weak, black or with something in it, hot or cold, any allergies? What’s your vibe?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not a fan of black but anything else is okay. And I don’t have any allergies. I'll tell you what, get me your favourite drink, yeah?”

“You’ve got that much faith in me?”

“Of course, I trust you to either give me the best thing on the planet or the worst thing I have ever put in my mouth,” Pierre told him. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, P,” Charles warned him. 

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Charles walked up to the counter, grabbing his phone out so he could pay, and nodded a hello.

“Hey Charles, you want your usual, mate?” The barista asked, and Charles nodded.

“Two of it please Jamie,” he smiled. He’d missed Jamie, “Can you do them to go though, please. I’ve got to take this one shopping.”

Jamie laughed and looked across at Pierre, who was awkwardly loitering at Charles’ side as he spoke to the other man. 

“Who's this one then?” Jamie asked as he started preparing the drinks. 

Charles looked briefly over his shoulder and then turned back to Jamie. 

“New friend,” Charles said proudly and when he looked at Jamie, he saw the same proud, brotherly grin echoing back. 

Charles may have given him a couple of blowjobs in his time, but Jamie was a good person. He cared about Charles.

And he was the only one who could get Charles’ overly specific coffee order perfect. 

“Here you go, Charles, and Charles’ friend, one Chaotic Special,” Jamie said, putting the drinks down on the counter.

Pierre looked at it for a moment, blinked a couple of times as though he was trying to convince himself that they were actually there, and then looked up at Charles.

“What the actual fuck is that monstrosity?”

Charles grinned, Jamie rolled his eyes, and Pierre stared in anticipation.

“I have no idea,” Charles grinned. 

“What?!” Pierre admonished.

“He has no idea,” Jamie agreed and with the way he said it, it was obvious he was used to dealing with this with Charles. “He came in once, bored out of his mind, and I made him blindly pick a bunch of ingredients and we whacked something together. The little fucker liked whatever it was, so I made a note of it and now we offer it as The Chaotic Special, and we don’t tell anyone what’s in it.”

Jamie was cut off by Charles slurping his drink through his straw, grinning around it whilst Pierre looked at him as though he was actually insane. 

“Why would you do that?”

“Like he said, I was bored. And it was either that or get a tattoo, and I think my Dad would’ve killed me if I did that. Weird coffee orders are like neutral chaotic, it’s safer than getting covered in tattoos that my dad will murder me for.”

Pierre looked slightly scared as he picked the drink up, cautiously taking a sip from it and Charles watched him eagerly. 

“Hmm,” Pierre smiled as though he was in pain, and Charles instantly started laughing, “I seriously think I’m going to die.”

“It’s a lot of sugar yeah…” Jamie agreed, crossing his arms across the counter and watching the two boys. 

“It’s good though, right?” Charles nudged, even though he knew it really wasn’t that nice to anyone but him. 

“It’s interesting,” Pierre agreed and Charles grinned happily. 

He turned back to the counter and paid for their drinks, shaking his head in warning when Jamie wiggled his eyebrows at him and Pierre. 

“Come on, photography boy, I need to buy paint.”

The two of them headed back out, sipping on their overly complicated iced drinks like the stereotypical Gen Z kids that they were. 

“It’s actually not that bad the more I get used to it,” Pierre told him, “Like no offence, but it’s still kinda bad, but it’s getting better.”

“Jamie hated me when he made it that first time. He looked at me afterwards like I was insane and actually threatened to murder me. He’s great, I love Jamie.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Pierre said tensely. 

“I’ve known him for like a year? He often works the events at my Dad’s law firm when we have these like gala things, it’s how we got to know each other.”

“Is Charlotte your girlfriend?” Pierre asked, suddenly changing the subject and Charles nearly choked on his drink. 

He coughed and laughed, furiously shaking his head. 

“God no. First off, she’s definitely not into me, I have the wrong equipment, and secondly, she’s my _bestfriend_ and I love her, but she’s like a sister to me. I’ve known her since I was eleven and she’s great. Balances out all that male influence in my life.”

“You two are really close,” Pierre shrugged, “I just assumed..”

“Yeah I mean I’m not straight anyway but it doesn’t mean that because I hugged a girl I’m dating her. Girls and boys can be friends, Pierre.”

“I know, I just, you guys are _really_ close.”

“She helps me with stuff, helps me make sense of things. We’re not dating,” He told him finally, hoping that emphasising that he was for one, not straight, and two not dating Charlotte, that Pierre would pick up on the subtext. 

That he was into Pierre. 

And it seemed like everyone but Pierre knew that. 

“I’m sorry,” Pierre said.

“It’s fine, but don’t tell Charlotte, she might try and punch you if you say me and her are dating. It’s almost like she’s embarrassed by me,” Charles laughed. He knew it wasn’t the case, Charlotte adored him but they really were more like siblings and implying that he and Charlotte were dating sort of feels like implying that he and Dan were dating. 

Max and Dan suited each other, they complimented each other and them dating was an obvious choice. 

But Dan really felt like a brother to Charles and the idea of dating Dan just felt all kinds of wrong. 

“So, are you dating anyone?” Pierre asked, and Charles coughed awkwardly. 

Yeah, him, dating. The school slut. Sure. 

“No, I don’t do good with relationships, I just, I have a lot of problems I guess. You?” He admitted. 

“Not anymore. I had a girlfriend in France, but we broke up when Papa told me we’re moving. It was for the best and we really should’ve split up before we did. We was together more because it was easier than splitting up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was, as cruel as this sounds, actually a good thing.”

Charles wouldn’t know when breaking up with someone was a good idea. When he told Pierre he didn’t do good with relationships, he meant he simply didn’t know how to do relationships. The only boy he’d ever wanted to date was now dating the guy that Charles had made him have a gay awakening for. And now the boy he thought he wanted to date was telling him about a previous relationship.

Was that a thing you did on first dates?

Not that this was a first date, Charles just bought him a drink and is getting some paint and then going home. 

Either way, was you supposed to tell people about your failed relationships when you flopped between smiling at them like they were the most important person on the planet and staring at them like you didn’t understand them?

Charles wouldn’t know. He had no boundaries normally and almost everyone knew almost everything about him. 

They carried on talking quietly about nothing of significance, nothing that Charles needed to put actual effort into listening to but could rather make small talk about. His mind was getting lost again, falling into that abyss of darkness in which there was light and there was something there that was keeping him safe, but made him feel a bit uneasy. 

Walking into the art store, Charles waved to the elderly couple that owned it, nodded when they asked him to pass along their hellos to his fathers, and snuck through to the corner of the shop that he adored. The place where paints lived and Charles thought up his ideas. 

He needed to get some more oil paints and a few marker replacements, and whilst he was here he’d probably grab some more red and blue spray paint for his Dad. He didn’t know what his Dad was doing with it, but Kimi had said he was making something for his Seb so he just let him get on with it. 

Charles picked up the paint, looking at the two colours in his hands. He knew he needed more titanium white and phthalo blue, and he couldn’t remember what else. He dragged his phone out of his pocket, and quickly looked over his list of paints to replace. Fuck, yellow ochre and sap green, that was it. 

He was trying to get the colours together he needed to make Max a Bob Ross inspired painting for his birthday, and it was all land and forestry and water, the one thing Max loved more than anything. He loved going exploring and getting lost in nature. It was one of the things they loved to do together. They were naturally curious, always wanting to explore, and when they had some free time or were visiting their grandparents in Germany and Finland, the twins often found a way to escape whatever responsibilities they had to explore their universe. 

“Hey Charles?” Pierre said.

Charles jumped, he’d forgotten Pierre was there. 

"Yeah?"

He never looked up at Pierre as he kept picking between the colours. 

“Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

Charles felt his heart stop.

“No..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> hehehe
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to shout at me some more lmao
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated❤️


	4. Broken - June 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Panic Attacks, Derogatory Language, Throwing Up, Nightmares, Mentions of Past Abuse, Implied Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression**
> 
> So this isn’t going to be fun. Charles is having a very difficult time with his mental health and he’s very self-destructive and blames himself for a lot of his problems. This is something that he’s still working on, but his mind likes to blame him because that is what he thinks he should do and is used to hearing. 
> 
> But this chapter and the next one are going to be very hard and dark for Charles, so please do be aware and if there are anything in the content warnings that are making you feel as though you do not want to read this chapter, please do not hesitate to drop me a message on tumblr (3303andmore) or drop a comment and I will do you a summary of the chapter. Please do take care of yourselves, and I promise, his happy ending will come. It’s just not as easy as ABC for him and it’ll happen, he just needs time.

Charles didn’t know why he said no. 

Well he did, he was just pretending he didn’t. 

He dropped the paint tubes onto the floor, left his coffee on the side, and sprinted. Ignoring the calls of Pierre shouting after him and slamming out onto the streets, doing the only thing he knew how to. 

Running away from his problems. 

The bell of the shop door rattled after him, echoing through his mind as his lungs fought him to catch breath into them whilst also kicking out every single little puff there was. 

Tears streamed down Charles’ cheeks as he ran, sprinting through the crowds and barging between people, nearly knocking a small child over like a bowling pin as he ran, only just managing to swerve in time. 

He’d told himself that if Pierre asked him out, he’d say yes. 

He’d told himself that he had a crush on Pierre. 

He’d _hoped_ that Pierre would pick up on the subtext that he was into Pierre. 

And yet when he had asked him out, a million things had raced through his mind in a nanosecond. 

_“No”_

All he’d said was no.

And then he’d sprinted. 

Because that’s all he could ever do. He couldn’t own up to things, couldn’t admit his flaws, couldn’t get people’s help because he was an idiot. He ran away from his problems like a little fucking kid because he was too stupid to own up and just tell Pierre that ‘no it’s not that simple’. 

His backpack slammed against his back with every lunge, and if Charles was thinking straight, he’d have thought about the fact that his water bottle was in the bottom of his bag and he’d have a line of bruising on his back tomorrow. But he wasn’t thinking straight and he didn’t know what to do. 

Going on a date meant holding hands. 

Going on a date meant kissing. 

Going on a date meant having sex. 

Charles couldn’t do that. He couldn’t. He was _weak_. 

He was a stupid, stupid, _stupid_ little boy and that’s all he ever would be. Just some idiot kid that overreacted and cried because people touched him. 

Charles didn’t know how he got home. Didn’t know how his feet had carried him all the way from the centre of town to their house on the edge. It wasn’t a quick journey, and yet Charles felt transported. 

Shaking violently, tears streaming, his stomach threatening to twist and turn, his heart exploding, Charles managed to somehow get his keys in the door and slam it open. 

“It’ll probably be done for next Tuesday, but I don’t know.” 

His Dad. 

That was his Dad’s voice. 

Charles threw his backpack onto the floor and ran into the front room, diving onto his Dad and knocking all the papers out of the way and his laptop clamouring to the floor. Charles barely registered his Dad’s frantic hang up of his phone call, barely registered the way he called for Kimi and barely registered as he pulled Charles up to hold him tight. 

“It’s okay, Charles, I’ve got you, but you need to sit up, baby, you need to listen to me, I’m going to help you but I need you to listen,” Seb said, pushing Charles’ bandana off his head, throwing his sunglasses somewhere and resting his hand on the back of Charles’ neck. 

“Dad-” Charles gasped, his breath catching.

“I know, I know you’re having a panic attack, which is why I need you to sit up, you need to sit up so that we can get the air back into your lungs properly, Charles. You’re doing really good, baby,” Seb kept calm, gently squeezing the back of his neck and releasing it so that Charles could start to build up a slower pattern of breathing. 

Charles felt the tightness in his chest, could feel the cold wave spiralling up, could feel the way that the darkness was creeping through him, the voices in his head gradually increasing in volume, like a TV with the volume broken. It was slowly working its way up until Charles couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t hear his Dad and couldn’t hear his own screaming tears. 

_You’re worthless_

_An absolute slut_

_Unlovable_

_This world would be better off without you in it_

_Damaged fucker_

“Charles?”

Charles tried to reach out, tried to grab onto his Dad’s voice but his head was screaming so loud. Why was it so loud? And why was it getting so dark?

When Charles pulled his eyes open, he wasn’t in the same position he had been what seemed like only moments before. He wasn’t pressed back against the sofa with his Dad looking at him anymore. Instead his head was gently rocking in a steady rhythm, back and forth, back and forth, and when Charles closed his eyes again for a moment, he heard the steady thump accompanying it. He felt the softness under his cheek. He smelt that strange mixture of cinnamon and cardamom, and when he pulled his eyes open, there was an arm around his back and a laptop pressing against his knee. 

“Dad?” he croaked, looking up shakily at his Dad. His stuffed penguin called Tommy, was pressed between his hands, holding it carefully underneath his jaw, and everything _hurt_.

His Dad shut his laptop, throwing it carelessly to the side and helping Charles to sit up. 

“How you feeling, baby?” he asked, passing across his water bottle. 

Charles cradled it in his hands like a child, desperately sucking up water through the straw to fill his empty body. 

“Did I throw up?”

“No, darling, just panicked and passed out,” Seb told him, and when Charles blinked sleepily at him, he could see the fear and worry etched across his face. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Charles, you know that. I just want you to be safe.”

“You good, kid?” Kimi asked, coming to sit on the arm of the sofa beside them and resting his hand on Charles’ head.

Charles nodded slightly, rubbed at his eyes and fell back into his Dad. 

“Really tired,” he told them. 

“Why did you have a panic attack, Charles? I thought you and Pierre were going into town?”

Charles felt the tears build up at hearing Pierre’s name. 

God he’d been stupid to think he could possibly have thought he’d be ready to think about dating. 

“We did,” he whimpered, “And I bought a coffee, from Jamie, and then I took him to the Gallery ‘cause I was going to get my paint and some markers that I needed to replace. And we’d been talking, and just hanging out, and he showed me the pictures he took and they were really good. And I didn’t think about, but he started asking about Charlotte and stuff. And I dunno, I just, he asked me if I was dating her and I was like no! And I thought he had a thing for her and that’s why he was asking me if I was dating her. But then he started telling me about his ex-girlfriend. And I just, I stopped paying attention. I’ve kinda got a crush on him and I don’t know how to do dates and relationships, and I started thinking about ‘is this what you’re meant to do?’, just tell people your entire life story the first time you hang out.”

Charles paused to take a drink amidst his rambling, the straw banging against his teeth as he shakily lifted his hands. Sebastian gently held the bottom to stop it shaking, and Kimi kept playing with his hair to keep him calm. 

“And I kept telling myself, if he asked me out, I’d say yes. I want to be happy and I want believe that he is what will make me happy. And he’s _so nice_. I thought that I could do this. But I was looking at the paint, oh by the way, Mr and Mrs Ilott told me to say hello, and I just forgot he was there. And he made me jump because he randomly said ‘hey Charles’, and I didn’t look at him and I was just humming back because I was trying to remember what paints I needed and I was looking at my phone, and he said ‘do you want to go on a date sometime’ and my brain just stopped. All I could hear was Mick, and Mick telling me I’m unlovable and I just panicked.”

Charles felt the tears falling, dropped his chin onto his chest and couldn’t look at his dads as he rambled without stopping for breath. 

“I said no, and I ran away. I didn’t even explain anything, I just ran. And I’m such a fucking idiot, this is why I don’t get shit. This is why I don’t deserve someone like him. He’s perfect, and I’m just a fucking mess,” Charles choked on a sob, bringing his knees up and pushing himself away from his parents. 

He didn’t want to be touched right now. He didn’t deserve them to love and protect him when all he did was making stupid mistakes. 

“Charles, you’re not a mess, darling,” Seb told him, as he and Kimi came to squat in front of him. Neither of them touched him, but kept their eyes fixed on him and carefully moved around so as not to startle him. 

“I am!” he cried, “I’m a stupid fucking kid who cries because a boy was nice to him!”

“Charles, stop it,” Kimi told him, his tone firm, “You went through something that he does not know about, that he does not understand. And you can’t expect yourself to be ready to go straight into dating and relationships when you have no experience, and also you don’t know what to expect from him properly. You’ve known him _two weeks_.”

“But he’s nice,” Charles said, his head falling back onto the sofa as he looked at his dads.

“It doesn’t matter, Charles, it’s not going to make you ready quicker. You panicked because you know in your heart that you’re not ready. You’ve known this boy two weeks, you don’t have to be ready to go on a date with him yet,” Kimi said. 

“We spoke about this before you went out, baby. You have been through so much, and you’re still learning and growing as a person, so don’t expect yourself to be ready for this. And if Pierre is a good guy, he’ll wait for that. He’ll wait for you to be ready and he’ll be there when you want to hold his hand,” Seb continued. 

“I don’t want him to call me a slut or something,” Charles told them, pulling the blanket up and wiping his eyes with it, “I’m terrified to even hold his hand, Dad, how am I meant to have a normal relationship if I can’t even hold his _fucking hand_?!”

“You will one day, maybe. Or maybe you never will be able to do that. But you have to remember the steps of progress you’ve made. You are doing so good, Charles, and you are trying your absolute best, but you can take it slow. Two weeks isn’t long, Charles, and it might be that, yes, you do have a crush on him, but you’re not ready for anything more than that. Don’t push yourself to do everything now, just get to know him first,” Seb said. 

Charles sneaked his hands out of the blanket and reached out for his parents. 

Seb and Kimi pushed themselves onto the sofa and Charles buried himself in between them. 

“You need to talk to him about what happened,” Kimi reminded him, “You need to tell him that something happened, and you have to tell him that you need to take things slower because of it. I’m not saying tell him every single thing, I’m not saying tell him that you got battered, I’m just saying that you should probably tell him that you got hurt and being in a relationship isn’t what you need right now.”

“I don’t want him to leave though, he’s really nice,” Charles whispered.

“I know baby,” Seb said, “And I’m sure he won’t. But you just need to take a step back, and stop diving head-first into things. I know that’s your personality in a nutshell, you’re nothing if not dramatic and fast-moving, you wouldn’t haven’t gotten into LCF so easily without it. And you’re perfect, Charles, but you can take things slower and no one will mind.”

“Max told me to talk to Pierre, tell him I get overwhelmed and need some space, and I don’t know how to do that without sounding like a dick. He’s literally seen me cuddling with Charlotte and now I’m going to be like ‘oh yeah don’t touch me though’, like wow what a dickhead I am.”

“You’re not a dickhead, Charles, you really aren’t. And as cruel as this might sound, I imagine he’s heard rumours, and if you tell him you want to take things slow, he might already have an idea that something has happened.”

“I just want Mick to go away,” Charles whimpered, pressing his palms to his eyes, “I want to be able to smile at Pierre and not see Mick, Dad. I want him to just leave my brain and I want to not feel like a fucking failure all the time.”

“You’re not a failure Charles, you are so strong and so perfect, you are trying your absolute best and you’ve been doing so, _so_ good lately. Just because you have a rough time sometimes, it doesn’t mean you suddenly are a failure. Do you remember when you first came home with us?” Seb said, pulling Charles’ hands away from his face and holding them in his.

Charles shook his head and dropped his head onto Kimi’s shoulder as he looked at Sebastian. 

“When you were a little boy, you were so scared of leaving Max. After everything that had happened, you were terrified of him going somewhere and never coming home again. And you would scream and scream and scream, and one of us would have to hold you down and you’ve never felt pure worry and anger like a five year old can exhibit when he’s literally clawing at your skin to put him down so he can chase after his brother. You spent so long being scared then, but you’re not anymore. Because you kept growing as a person, and you learnt how to balance your fear with your happiness, and you’re okay now. That’s what you have to remember. Learning to balance these things comes in time, and maybe you think you should be over it because it’s been five months, but that doesn’t mean anything-”

“Time is a social construct anyway,” Kimi murmured, making Charles giggle, “Take all the fucking time you need kid, and you will get there eventually. I promise you, one day, the boy you used to be will come back one day.”

“But what if I don’t get back to that? What if I’m always destined to be this fucked up lost cause?” Charles whispered, “I just don’t feel like a real person sometimes anymore, and I don’t want to keep bothering everyone, but I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Charles, you can always bother us, because you’re not a bother, darling,” Seb told him, stroking Charles’ hair off his head, “You’re not fucked up, and you’re not a lost cause. You are going to be okay one day, and we’ll be there to champion you along every single day.”

“Do you think we should book you in to see Ada?” Kimi asked quietly, “Get you an emergency appointment?”

“I’m scared that Pierre is going to have fucked everything up. I was really happy and I thought I’d be happy with him, but now I’m too scared to do anything,” Charles answered instead, “What if he does?”

“Charlie, you said no. You need to remember that. You’re taking control of things and balancing your own needs just as much as you’re trying to learn how to be around Pierre. This is your first proper grown up crush, and you deserve to have this chance of being happy. And I think you should talk to your brothers and Ada about this. Max especially. He knows what it’s like to be scared of a new relationship,” Seb told him. 

“Can you- can you phone Ada, and see about changing my appointment? I was meant to be going next week but I think I need to go sooner, don’t I?” Charles admitted quietly, pulling his knees to his chest and dropping his cheek to rest on his knee. 

“If you think it would be beneficial to go sooner than yeah, I do, kiddo,” Seb said whilst Charles nodded and sleepily blinked. 

“I’m so tired, I just want to sleep forever,” Charles said and then quickly clarified when he saw his parents exchange a sharp look, “I don’t mean I want to kill myself, not at the minute anyway, but I’m exhausted and I want to go to bed, that’s what I mean.”

“You can go to bed, but when Max and Dan get back, they said they’ll be back at about 3, you’re going to come down and Lewis and Valtteri too, and we’ll watch something on Netflix, yeah?”

“Can we watch something on Disney instead? I want to watch Ratatouille,” Charles asked. 

“Maybe not Ratatouille, Charles,” Kimi said and Charles frowned. 

What was wrong with Ratatouille? It was a great movie.

“Maybe don’t watch a movie about French people when you’ve just had a breakdown over a French person,” Seb pointed out and Charles’ frowned dropped.

“Yeah okay, you’ve got a point, High School Musical 3 it is then,” Charles grinned as both of his parents groaned. 

Charles had been obsessed with the movies growing up, spending hours watching them and learning basketball simply because he wanted to be Troy Bolton. Admittedly, now Charles thought about it, there was definitely a lot of him crushing on Zac Efron that inspired his desire to learn basketball, but still. It was a good movie. And once a wildcat, always a wildcat. 

Even if his parents disagreed. 

They really were tired of Charles and Max arguing over whether Sharpay was a victim or a villain. Charles maintained she was a victim of circumstance. 

His dads just didn’t care anymore. 

But Max and Charles did. High School Musical was a piece of cinematic masterpiece and arguably one of the best Disney original movies to ever exist. The High School Musical 3 soundtrack was the superior one, and Charles would fight anyone on that any day. 

But Charles also knew that one of the main reasons why he liked and defended Sharpay so much was simply because he felt like he understood her. 

The slightly evil one, the one that no one quite trusted, the one that was very adamant about always getting their own way and wanting to be at the forefront but constantly getting pushed away. 

Things were better these days, his parents didn’t prioritise his brothers over Charles like they used to, everything was better balanced. And Charles didn’t feel animosity towards his brothers for anything nor his parents. It was hard to feel the anger that it was _their fault_ when he was the one who’d pushed them away. When he was the one that right from turning 13 had had an attitude. He couldn’t be angry that his parents never questioned why he swore at them and would tell them to fuck off when he’d told them numerous times growing up that he hated them. All they’d ever tried to do was protect Charles and his brothers. It was him that acted like an absolute shit half the time. 

That was in the past, Ada’s voice filled his head, you’re different now. You understand that your actions have consequences and you actually talk to them as opposed to just screaming at them all the time. 

Kimi followed Charles upstairs, carrying his water bottle and penguin as Charles went up with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. It wasn’t that he still needed tucking in like a kid, it was more that there’d been instances where Charles had nearly passed out on the stairs after a panic attack and now his parents needed to be sure he could make it up to his room safe. Part of Charles did love getting tucked in though, even when it was barely 1pm and yet his body ached and his lungs were heavy and he just felt _empty_. 

“Give us a shout if you need anything,” Kimi said, sitting on the edge of Charles’ bed once he flopped onto it and carding his fingers through Charles’ hair. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you guys,” Charles whispered, blinking heavily as he nuzzled into the penguin. 

“Nothing to be sorry for kiddo, we just want you to be safe. Dad’s going to phone Ada and we’ll let you know what she says, okay?” 

Charles nodded as his head dropped onto the pillow and his eyes started to glue themselves shut. 

“I love you, Dad,” Charles murmured, his brain slowly switching off and letting him fall asleep in peace. 

“Not as much as I love you, Charlie,” Kimi promised and Charles smiled weakly.

He’d always disagree with his Dads on that. He definitely loved them a lot more than they loved a fucked up idiot like him. 

“But get some sleep, kid, you’ll feel better later.”

And so Charles did. He let his eyes close, let the dancers flash across his vision as he got lost in the realm of the unconscious. 

_”Dad?” Charles shouted, stumbling through the house._

_They’d promised to wake him up for 3pm, Max and Dan were meant to be back by now. His clock said it was nearly 6pm. Time for dinner. But the house was silent._

_The house was never silent when Max and Dan were here. They were always laughing. Always giggling. Always chasing each other around and banging into things and Charles’ never knew that he’d end up knowing what Max sounded like when he was having sex but they weren’t always quiet and well, Charles had ear plugs for a reason._

_But he couldn’t hear anyone._

_He wandered through the upstairs. His brothers’ rooms were both empty. The bathroom was empty._

_His parents’ room was empty._

_When Charles walked downstairs, everything was empty._

_His parents were gone. His brothers were gone._

_The cars on the drive were gone._

_Lewis’ trainers that had been so neatly lined up beside Valtteri’s were gone._

_Everyone’s jackets vanished from the coat rack._

_His Dad’s briefcase was gone._

_Max’s backpack was gone._

_Everything was gone._

_“Dad? Max? Are you here?” Charles shouted, clutching the ends of his blanket tight in his left fist and holding onto Tommy the Penguin as he shuffled through the house._

_He checked his Dad’s art studio._

_Everything was gone._

_Including the painting he’d been working on for Dad._

_Where the hell was everyone?_

_Charles walked back through to the kitchen, sticking his head into his Dad’s study._

_Empty._

_All his files were gone._

_**Where the hell was everyone?** _

_“You didn’t think they’d still be here, did you?”_

_Charles whirled around as soon as the voice hit him, stumbling over the corner of the blanket catching under his foot and falling to the floor._

_“What the hell are you doing here?”_

_“I told them I could make you disappear. It’s what they want.”_

_Charles frantically shuffled backwards as he started to walk closer._

_“They don’t want some fucked up freak for a kid. They only want Max and Val. They never wanted you.”_

_“You’re lying,” Charles whimpered, his back smacking into the hard wood of his Dad’s desk as he pushed himself closer into the room._

_“Think about it you freak, you’re second best. They never cared about you.”_

_“Yes they do.”_

_“If they did, they would’ve seen what you were doing, wouldn’t they?”_

_Charles screwed his eyes shut, slammed his hands over his ears, drawing his knees to his chest to protect himself._

_It did nothing to drown him out._

_“I offered to make you disappear, and they jumped at the opportunity. They couldn’t believe their luck.”_

_“Please leave me alone,” Charles begged._

_“Their stupid, fucked up, whore of a freak son finally going bye bye. That’s what they want.”_

_“They love me,” he protested._

_The bellowing laugh he got back cut through Charles’ heart as Charles screamed._

_“They want you fucking dead. So does everyone. That’s why **they** used to do that to you.”_

_Charles wrenched his eyes open and looked up as sobs fell from him._

_“I don’t want to die,” Charles sobbed._

_“Too fucking bad.”_

_His hand reached out to grab Charles’ ankle, dragging him forward quickly so that Charles fell and straddling his waist._

_His hands worked up Charles’ shirt._

_“MICK PLEASE!” Charles screamed, trying to get away._

_But Mick didn’t stop. He kept tracing his hands over Charles’ body, his mouth coming closer to Charles-_

_“Charles, Charles, baby, wake up, wake up, baby, Dad’s here.”_

_Charles frantically shook his head, trying to dissipate the voice from his head._

_“Charles, you’re safe, he’s not here, just open your eyes baby.”_

Charles sat up with a start, his body throwing itself forward and off the side of his bed. 

He was barely awake as he scrambled up and ran into the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet and sobs falling hard from his throat.

He felt a gentle touch to his back and Charles screamed, pushing himself away from it. 

“I’m sorry, Charles, I didn’t mean to scare you,” his Dad said, and Charles could barely hear him over the sobs and the ringing in his ears. 

“Charles, can you drink some water for me?”

Charles didn’t know whose voice was filtering through now, but it was neutral, soft, and he shakily took some water into his mouth. He rinsed his mouth and spat into the bowl as the person flushed the contents away. 

“You’re doing really good, Charles, I’m really proud of you. Can you drink some more water for me?”

“Tommy,” he whimpered. He needed his penguin in his hands now.

“I’ll go get him Charles, I’ll get Tommy for you baby,” his Dad said. 

“I’m going to rinse the towel under the sink and I’m going to wipe your face, Charles, is that okay?” The neutral voice asked and Charles shakily nodded. 

“Thank you, Charles,” they said, and Charles tugged hard on his hair as he tried to stop crying. 

“Can you tilt your chin up for me, Charles?”

Charles followed the instruction, pushing the lead weight of his head back. 

Gently the cloth came to wipe at Charles face, brushing the tears and spit and mess away. 

“You’re doing really well, Charles, can you hold out your hand so I can give you Tommy?” 

Charles turned his palm on his thigh and the second his fingers touched against the matted fur, Charles pulled it into his hands. 

“Can you open your eyes for me, Charles?”

Charles dropped his head back down and pressed his face into his penguin. Carefully, he opened his eyes, seeing nothing at first other than the dark, dirty grey of his penguin’s fur. The soft light from the bathroom window was filtering around them, and in front of him, as he slowly pulled the penguin away from his eyes, he saw distressed light denim shorts that neither of his brothers were cool enough to wear. 

Only one person he knew would do that. 

“Lewis?”

“Hey buddy,” Lewis gently murmured, still carefully wiping the cloth over Charles’ face as more tears fell. 

“You’re here,” he whimpered.

“We’re all here kid, me, Val, Max and Dan, your Dads, we’re all here, we’re not going anywhere.”

“He said you wanted to leave me,” Charles mumbled, his voice barely audible between the sobs and the fact that he was pressing his mouth into Tommy the Penguin’s body. 

“No, kid, we all love you a hecking tonne, we’re not going anywhere.”

“He said you wanted me dead, that everyone does.”

Charles heard a sharp intake of breath but he kept his eyes on Lewis. Lewis kept him grounded. Lewis wouldn’t let Mick in again. 

“No, we don’t. We all want you around, and also, you’re the only person that actually gets fashion compared to those bozos you’re related to. I need you to stay here to actually help me in my mission to get Max to wear anything but beige and Valtteri to wear shirts less, I can’t get enough of his abs,” Lewis joked, and even Charles sobbed a small laugh, his voice catching in his throat as he swiped his hand under his nose. 

“Where’s my Dad?”

“I’m here, kiddo, we’re both here,” Seb said, and Charles looked up. They were both sat outside the bathroom, leaving him in the room just with Lewis. 

“I had a nightmare Daddy,” Charles whispered, just like he was a little boy again. 

“Do you want a hug, or do you want to be left alone?”

Charles held out his arms, and Lewis helped him forward to crash into Seb and Kimi’s arms. Max and Dan were stood behind them, Max clutching onto Dan’s hand and looking at Charles with terrified eyes. Valtteri was looking sadly at his baby brother but lovingly at Lewis. 

“Was Mick in your dream?” Kimi whispered into his hair and Charles let out another tear as he nodded. 

“Told me you wanted me dead, that you wanted Max and Val, that given a chance, you’d have me killed and leave me behind like they used to, because you don’t love me,” Charles explained, stopping between every few words as his voice caught. 

He could feel Kimi’s thumb stroking across the back of his head, at the nape of his neck, whilst Sebastian simply tightened his arms around Charles’ shoulders. 

“That is not true, it will never be true. You are _our son_ and we love you, Charles. You’re our baby, you’re not going anywhere, you are staying right here with me and your Dad and your brothers and Dan and Lewis. We’re not going _anywhere_ , Charles.”

“I don’t want to die, Dad,” Charles admitted, breaking down again fully in Seb’s arms and wailing into his chest. 

He heard movement around him, knowing it was going to be his brothers and their boyfriends leaving them alone, leaving Charles crying in his Dads arms.

“You’re not going to die, Charles, I’ll always keep you safe. He can’t hurt you, baby, he’s in prison for a long time, he can’t come near you,” Seb promised, “It’s just your mind playing dirty tricks on you, it’s just your mind being scared.”

“What if he does?”

“Then I’ll knock him the fuck out,” Kimi swore and when Charles looked up, he saw the look in Kimi’s eyes that said he wasn’t lying. 

Kimi pushed himself up, his back cracking as he extended an arm to pulled Charles up too. 

“Come on, kiddo, let’s get you changed.”

Charles let Kimi pull him up, his Dad catching him when he faltered slightly, and followed him through to his bedroom again. 

His bedsheets were in a tangled mess, but he ignored them, following his Dad to his closet and finding some new clothes to put on. 

Kimi passed across his black and white checked pyjama pants and a loose t-shirt, helping Charles to drag off his t-shirt when he got it tangled around his head as he refused to let go of Tommy the Penguin. 

“God this is like when you were a kid and you’d refuse to let anyone dress you if you didn’t pick out your clothes yourself,” Kimi muttered as he pulled the top over Charles’ head properly. 

Charles smiled weakly at his Dad and sat down on his bed when it came to swapping his shorts for his pyjamas. 

“I remember when you were about 7, you went through this phase of only wanting to wear your Rapunzel dress and that is still one of the funniest arguments I’ve seen you and your Dad in,” Kimi grinned and Charles frowned as he smiled back confusedly.

“I don’t remember that. I remember having all the dress up outfits and that, but I don’t remember the Rapunzel dress.”

“Your Oma made it for you, just before we moved to England. You’d watched Barbie as Rapunzel at their house and you were obsessed with it. Your Oma made it so you’d stop crying over not having the dress. And you refused to wear anything but that for about three weeks, which was fine, until we were meant to be taking you and your brothers to your Dad’s leaving do at work and you refused to go unless you could wear your dress.”

Charles laughed as his dad told him the story. He really had no memory of it at all. 

“What ended up happening?”

“You wore the dress,” Kimi shrugged, “But your Dad made you put a long sleeve t-shirt and some legging things underneath because it was December and _fucking cold_. But you were the happiest little princess and your Dad was so proud of you for standing up for yourself and wanting to keep your dress on and arguing back with him all because he was concerned about the weather. It was never about you being a boy and wearing a dress. Your Dad was just worried you’d get cold. But anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we’re always proud of you, kiddo, regardless of what you do with your life.”

“I know, Dad,” Charles whispered, looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

Kimi squatted down in front of him, catching his youngest child’s eye.

“I think you forget how proud we are of you. How amazing you’ve been. Your Dad and I are so proud of you, every single day. Even on the days when you don’t want to get out of bed, the fact that you’re still fighting and you’re here, that’s such an achievement Charles, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to measure your progress against this boy. Boys are dumb, ignore him.”

Charles laughed slightly and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm. 

“I’m sorry that I keep fucking up, I’m really trying to not keep messing up all the time.”

Kimi pushed himself upwards, sitting beside Charles on the bed and drawing the teenager into his arms. 

“You are doing amazing, kid. Don’t apologise for having a bad day, this is your first big panic attack in nearly a month, Charles. That’s such amazing progress. You’re doing really good.”

Charles hummed in acquiescence, not really believing his dad but he knew it was futile to argue with him over this. Instead, Charles changed the subject, dragging it away from himself and his stupid brain. 

“Can we go watch High School Musical now?” Charles asked, cradling Tommy the Penguin to him and looking up at his Dad with wide and begging eyes as he wiped the tears away. 

“Get your water bottle and we’ll go downstairs,” Kimi agreed. 

Charles grabbed his bottle, swinging the olive-green bottle with a C on it between his fingers as they walked downstairs. Tommy was still clutched in his other hand, not wanting to let go of the one thing keeping him sane right now. 

“Please don’t tell me we have to watch Charles get horny for Zac Efron _again_ ,” Valtteri sighed as Charles flopped down onto the sofa between Dan and Lewis. 

Max was sprawled half across Dan’s lap, his feet pressing against Charles’ thigh as the twins exchanged a brief smile. Valtteri was sat on the floor in front of the sofa, Lewis’ legs stretched out around him as he flicked through the newspaper. 

“Hey, you have to do what I want, I cried earlier,” Charles joked, knocking Valtteri’s shoulder with his knee. 

“Yeah I know. You cry just so you can watch Zac Efron run around in a sleeveless top, I know your secrets Charles. I’m onto you, you horny little devil,” Valtteri responded, looking up at his brother and winking at him playfully. 

“Well, at least we all know Zac Efron isn’t going to break my heart,” Charles shrugged, “Troy Bolton, however, there’s a chance I’m going to cry when he makes his decision about college.”

“Charles, you have cried at that scene all 157 times we have watched this movie,” Sebastian admonished and Charles simply shrugged. 

“The fact that you’ve kept a tally tells me you love this movie just as much as I do,” Charles cheeked only to see Seb roll his eyes and the movie to start playing. 

Charles dropped his head onto Dan’s shoulder as the movie started. 

(He definitely didn’t cry at the ending)

(Okay that’s a lie he really did)

(It’s just emotional seeing Troy make his college decision, okay?! Let a boy off)

**\---- Monday Afternoon - 29th June 2020 ----**

“So, what happened then?” Ada asked once Charles was settled and they’d had a chat about everything else. 

Ada didn’t push Charles into talking straight away, it never ended well for him. But rather, their sessions always began with Ada asking after his brothers, catching up on the gossip from the school day, before they talked about what was happening with Charles. 

“I think I accidentally went on a date with Pierre without knowing and then messed it up when he asked me on an actual date.”

“What happened?” Ada asked, smiling softly at him. 

Charles explained everything, explained the start of the day, going to the match and brushing fingers with Pierre when they’d looked at the pictures. Walking to the coffee shop and laughing with Jamie. Going to the Gallery and talking to the Iliots. And then the fact that when Pierre had asked if he wanted a date, he’d ran away. 

“And I had a massive panic attack, like Dad told you, and then I fell asleep but I had a nightmare about Mick, and he mentioned my past from before Dads adopted us. And I threw up. Lewis had to calm me down because I screamed when Dad touched me.”

“What’s going through your brain now, Charles? 

“I don’t know,” Charles admitted, “I think I’m scared of Pierre and what he entails. I’m scared that every bit of progress I’ve made with moving forward and having people be able to touch me is going to collapse because a boy smiled at me and didn’t treat me like a weirdo.”

“Have you spoken to your fathers about how you feel?”

“Kind of. Dad pulled me aside before we went to the match, told me that they were worried about me. That they were worried I was moving too fast and getting too invested too quickly. And, like, I knew where they were coming from. And I understood their worries and their fears, but I also didn’t entirely think at the time that they were right. I guess I kinda wanted to believe that everything was normal. Because with Pierre it is, or well, it was. It’s not now. I fucked that up. I fuck everything up.”

“And when you were dreaming, what’s the bit that sticks out the most?”

Charles thought about it for a moment, sighed and then looked up at Ada,

“I told Mick I don’t want to die yet.”

“Do you see what I’m going to say next?” Ada smiled, “About you and your desire to fight?”

“I’m not letting someone else take control of my life again,” Charles realised, “I’m the one in charge. I’m making the decisions. He couldn’t hurt me because I was starting to fight back.”

“Exactly, you’re making progress, Charles. And I think, the fact that you’re having nightmares about people leaving you behind, it’s because you’re worried about Pierre leaving you behind. You want him to be a good person, but you’re worried he’s going to be like Mick. And your biological parents. And that understandable. Which is why I’m going to tell you to talk to him. Tell Pierre everything about Mick. Tell him why you’re scared and tell him that you want him to be a good influence, but that you’re not used to that. And that you need him to take his time.”

Ada normally encouraged Charles to turn his phone on silent, not off completely in case he wanted to show her something, but he never responded to texts or messages whilst he was in therapy.

“I want to text him, now,” Charles told her, “And tell him I want to talk.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea, would you like me to sit with you as you decide what you want to write?” 

Charles nodded and Ada came to sit beside him. 

Charles pulled up his text thread with Pierre. 

The last message simply said:

Pierre  
  
**Yesterday** 14:34   
I’m sorry   


Charles thought about what to write, his leg bouncing as he toyed with his bottom lip. 

“Just tell him you want to talk, nothing more. Just a simple message, Charles,” Ada reminded him. 

Pierre  
  
**Yesterday** 14:34   
I’m sorry   
**Today** 17:27   
can we meet? I think we need to talk about yesterday   
Sure, want to meet at the park again? 7pm good?  
that’s good with me   


“You’re doing really well, Charles. You really are,” Ada reminded him, “And I am so proud of you. You are an amazingly strong young man, and I hope talking to Pierre goes well.”

“Me too,” Charles whispered, locking his phone and holding it to his chest. 

He really hoped it would go okay. 

~

Charles bounced his leg as he sat on the bench, his fingers toying with the bands tied around his right wrist, his heart racing. 

It was as though he’d been doing ballet again, spinning in endless perfect pirouette and classic Chaînés until his head was spinning and his body was poised in the most accurate angles. 

His head was spinning like it used to when he’d first learnt those moves, when his head kept spinning even when his body was stationary. 

It had been years since he’d done ballet. He’d given it up when he was thirteen and wasn’t really enjoying it anymore. And right now, Charles would take the endless drills of spinning in circles and learning the routines if it just meant he didn’t feel like this. 

“I didn’t see you at school today.”

Charles jumped as Pierre fell onto the seat beside him.

“Yeah, I erm, kinda just hung out with my tutor today. I had tutor first period and then a free and I just stayed with Carole, doing my work and that. I’m sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean to run away,” Charles said, taking in a deep breath. 

He didn’t look across at Pierre, he couldn’t look at him as he took the breath that would give him the strength to tell him. 

“I need-” Charles started only to get cut off by Pierre saying, 

“It’s probably a good thing you said no anyway.”

Oh

Oh this wasn’t what Charles was expecting.

“Why?” He questioned, his voice close to breaking over the single world. 

“Everyone says I can’t trust you, that you’re not the kind of person I should date.”

Oh cool so Charles was too late. 

Great. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone says that I shouldn’t date you, that I can’t trust you to stay faithful. That you are the kind of guy that doesn’t do relationship and that you just sleep around. And I can’t do that. I can’t just be with a guy for a night and then be mates again. I don’t do that. I’m not like that.”

“You could’ve trusted me,” Charles whispered. 

“But how can I know that? How can I know that you wouldn’t cheat on me or continue to break up relationships? Anytime anyone whispers your name around school it’s always tied in with this whole ‘he’s a slut and sleeps around’ or ‘he broke my relationship up’. I’m not saying you’re a slut because you like having sex-”

“I don’t want to have sex!” Charles shouted, cutting Pierre off, “I don’t want to have sex with you, or with anyone. I don’t want to hold people’s hands right now and kiss them. I just want to feel love for once in my fucking life. I want to be able to get to know someone without them knowing what my body is like first. No one else will give me that.”

“Because people don’t see a reason to trust you, and I kind of get why.”

“Shit fucking happens, Pierre,” Charles spat, “I know I have a reputation, but I don’t do that shit anymore. I haven’t for a long time. And yet you’re letting people tell you things about me without ever asking me the truth? You’re just telling me what I do wrong. And I don’t want that anymore. I just wanted you. I wanted a chance to be normal, and you still don’t fucking give me chance.”

“That’s not fair that you’re having a go at me for other people’s behaviour.”

“And it’s not fair that you’re choosing to believe rumours without ever giving me chance to explain myself!”

“Do you know how many people have told me how fucked up you are?” Pierre said.

And Charles felt a cold wave pour over him. 

They’d done what…?

Charles knew he wasn’t the best liked kid anymore, and after the whole Mick drama, there was a lot of issues surrounding people trusting Charles and being associated with him. But at least people didn’t give him shit anymore. 

Except, that was because there were people going to the one boy that he thought was different and proving to Charles that he was simply like the rest. 

Charles was always fated to be the boy who didn’t get a happy ending. Yes he’d made mistakes and he’d slept with arguably the wrong people, but _he wasn’t a bad person_. And yet, here Pierre was, telling him he was a slut because he’d slept with some people in the past. 

He hadn’t had sex in nine months. Hadn’t touched anyone but his family, Lewis, Dan or Charlotte in just as long. He’d kept to himself, moving quietly around the school and doing his work, learning how to read and write again now that his school had diagnosed his dyslexia. 

But kids never forgot anything. 

And Charles should’ve known that he’d never get chance to tell Pierre about Mick before the accusations came flying. 

“You know what? Fine. I’m not the guy who gets a happy ending anyway,” Charles sighed, pushing himself up off the bench as tears started to pool in his eyes. 

He couldn’t stay here. 

He didn’t _want_ to stay here. 

He wanted to go home. 

He was safe at home. 

“Charles,” Pierre murmured, standing up and grabbing Charles’ wrist, catching him. 

“Don’t!” Charles shouted, pulling his arm free as a tear escaped, “If you actually cared about me, you wouldn’t listen to rumours. You wouldn’t let people tell you things and you’d listen to me when I say I’m not like that anymore. I should’ve known you were just like him, only listening to the rumours and not me.”

“Who is ‘he’?” Pierre asked, stepping in front of Charles and stopping him from walking away. 

“Someone else who broke me down too,” Charles whispered. 

And with nothing more to be said, the sound of his heart shattering underneath his feet and his throat closing up with fear, sadness and anxiety, Charles turned on his heel and walked off, away from Pierre and away from the boy that he’d trusted with his heart only for him to crush it with some simple words. 

His hand was shaking violently as he brushed the tears away, tracing down his cheeks in a race to see who was to fall from the sharp lines of his jaw first. 

Charles thought that every word of Pierre’s distrust of him would be rattling through his brain, his words of anger and hatred of the slut that he was echoing deep. Everything he’d thought to Pierre would say was apparently correct. 

Except that wasn’t what was going through his head. 

It was the way that Pierre had said ‘Charles’.

It was the worry he’d looked at Charles with. 

It was the look of heartbreak as Charles told him he’d broke Charles. 

And he didn’t want this anymore. 

He didn’t want to _fucking be here_ anymore. 

What was the fucking point if people only ever treated him like shit?

Charles pushed the front door open. He could hear his Dad in the kitchen, talking to Isä, and Charles tried to sneak past. 

He didn’t want to fucking talk to anyone. 

People hated him. 

He needed to be alone. 

“Charles?”

He should’ve known his Dad wouldn’t let him do that. 

“Hey kid,” Seb said, walking out of the kitchen and catching Charles on the stairs, “Did you manage to talk to him? I thought you’d be out longer.”

Charles shook his head sadly, tears falling steadily with the weight of his emotions falling from his heart. 

“Why won’t the world let me be happy, Dad? Why am I such a bad person? What did I do wrong?” Charles questioned, slowly stepping down the stairs and into his Dad’s arms.

Seb held Charles close as he cried silently, the only sign being the wobble of his shoulders. 

Charles let Seb comfort him, whispering quiet words of comfort and telling him that he deserved to be happy. 

“You’ll get your happy ending, baby, things will be okay,” Sebastian murmured, running his fingers through the tangled ribbons of Charles’ hair. 

And Charles knew, that regardless of what it was that his Dad told him, his Dad simply wanted to go out find that ‘lovely’ French boy and kill him for breaking Charles’ heart. 

But Charles didn’t deserve that. 

He was simply the boy that didn’t get a happy ending instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this was sad and I know I’ve probably broken all your hearts, but like I said, the happy ending will happen. Just give Charles some time. 
> 
> And an apology from Pierre. 
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to come and shout at me for being mean to Charles again.


	5. Do Me a Favour - Mid July 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS:  
>  Suicide attempt (in the past)  
> Suicidal thoughts/behaviour (present)  
> Implied Body Image issues  
> Implied Eating disorders  
> Depression  
> Self harm  
> Derogatory language  
> Mentions of underage sex  
> Mentions of abuse (physical, verbal and sexual)**
> 
> This is going to be a long and dark and heavy one, so please as always, if you are not in a position to read this, please don’t. Please feel free to message me on Tumblr (3303andmore) or leave a comment down below and I shall do you a summary of the chapter. Your safety is paramount to me, and honestly nothing is worth you potentially hurting yourself. If there is anything, please just let me know. I am happy to try and help in any way possible.
> 
> (Also if you’re wondering why it’s taken me so long to finish this, I fell down a rabbit hole of watching a man solve really complicated sudoku’s on YouTube and basically spend like 2 hours a day watching sudoku videos..  
> I promise I’m sane lmao)

**\-- Wednesday 8th July 2020 --**

The worst part of all of this was the way that Charles’ brain spiralled. 

He’d had the next couple of days off school, after his ‘talk’ with Pierre. It was the second to last week of school anyway, due to finish on the following Wednesday, and Charles thought maybe he would end up going for his last day, but then it all had to go wrong again. 

Life was filled with endless hours of sitting on his race simulator and hanging out with Daniel whilst Max was at school. His Dads were leaving him with Dan and Val and Lewis, and honestly, Charles kind of appreciated it. Part of him still freaked out every time he watched his Dads leave, but his Dad had taken to texting him silly updates throughout the day to remind him that he wasn’t alone 

His latest pursuit was taking pictures of his coffee, lunch, snacks, anything food related to be fair, and asking Charles ‘is this instagram worthy?’. 

The answer was no. 

Every time. 

It still made Charles laugh when he got them though.

“Oi, smarty pants chaos kid, come help me with this,” Daniel shouted, and Charles paused his race to wander through the house to find Dan. 

He found him sat cross-legged on Max’s bed, trying to figure something out on Max’s Switch, and Charles flopped down beside him. 

“What do you need?”

“He told me to sort his fishing shit out, but I’m so confused.”

Charles sighed and took Max’s switch into his hands, flying around Max’s island and showing Dan how to catch fish on Animal Crossing. 

“Max text me earlier,” Dan said conversationally as Charles smashed the A button to drag the fish out of the water.

“He’s literally always texting you and I don’t need to know about your sexting please and thank you.”

“It was about Pierre,” Dan told him and Charles’ shoulders dropped. 

“Oh…”

“And Charlotte.”

“Oh…?” Charles said, his tone switching from sad to simply confused. 

“Charlotte slapped Pierre, repeatedly, and Max had to drag her off him,” he told Charles and Charles looked up at Dan. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, Max told me to tell you because when I go to get Max, you’re coming with me and we’re going to bring Charlotte home with us as well, okay?”

“Do I really have to go?” Charles asked, grimacing slightly, “What if I see him?”

“Then I will kiss you and you’ll be so distracted by that, that you won’t notice him anymore,” Dan smiled, nudging Charles’ shoulder. 

“I’d rather punch myself than kiss you, thanks,” Charles grinned, but he had to admit, maybe leaving the house for the first time in a few days wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

And plus, he’d be hiding in Dan’s car and he could put his hoodie on and just duck.

“I think it’ll do you some good to just go and see school, not get out the car or anything, but just to know that things are normal, that no matter what your brain says, the world is going to keep spinning and wait for you to join us again, alright?”

Charles nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Max’s island and running around it, not really wanting to continue the conversation.

“Oh this is a hideous outfit,” Charles murmured, “That won’t do.”

He flopped down to lay on Max’s bed properly, trying to not think about what these bed sheets had probably seen, and running around the island to find where Max had dumped Able Sisters Tailor’s Shop. 

He did not have a good layout. 

Charles wasn’t impressed.

But then again, there was a reason why Max was the scientific one and Charles was the artsy one out of them. 

Charles would have to redecorate Max’s island. He couldn’t be associated with this.

But that was for another day.

Dan came to lay beside him, flicking his gaze between texting Max and watching Charles.

“How’s your head doing?”

“Better, but not good though,” Charles admitted, “I think it did me some good to be away from it all for a couple of days though. I definitely rushed into everything too fast and it really didn’t help me at all. Even if things hadn’t gone to shit, I think it would’ve ended up happening anyway because I was expecting too much too soon.”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“Eventually,” Charles shrugged, flicking through outfit options for Max’s character before settling on an outfit that ended up costing Max a lot of bells. 

Good. 

Max deserved to go bankrupt. 

Let Tom Nook take over the world.

But anyway,

“I will talk to him. I kind of want to punch his lights out but I’m also terrified that the second I see him, I’m just going to completely meltdown again and cry and have a panic attack.”

“And if you do end up with the latter, just remember that Charlotte slapped him so hard she split his lip. You’ve got people fighting your corner, Charles, you’re not alone anymore.” 

“I know,” Charles shrugged.

“Do you still like him?” Daniel gently enquired and Charles squeezed his eyes shut. 

His bottom lip trembled as Charles shakily nodded.

“I know I shouldn’t,” he whispered, dropping Max’s Switch and pressing his hands over his face to muffle the tears and his voice, “I know he’s a dick and he said some horrible things, and I’m not saying I deserved it, and the more I think about it, the more I know I didn’t. But I can’t just turn off the fact that I have a thing for him just because he was mean to me, you know what I mean?”

“Do you want a hug?” Daniel asked and Charles nodded.

Charles curled into Daniel, letting the older boy hug him tight and stroke his hair. 

“You know it’s understandable that you’ve still got feelings for him, don’t you? It’s like you said, you didn’t deserve him being a fucking cunt to you,” Charles giggled through the tears when he heard Daniel call Pierre a cunt, “But this is the first boy you’ve ever had a real thing for-”

“I had a thing for Alex,” Charles admitted, “I gave him a blowjob when I was 15 hoping that, I don’t know, he’d pay attention and realise that I was good enough to want to see me again, you know?”

“Did you really?” Dan laughed but it wasn’t cruel, “I never knew that. What happened?”

“I never told him or anyone else. I gave him a blowjob, suggested we meet again for round 2 and he very politely told me that whilst he enjoyed it, he had a thing for George and didn’t want to string me along. It was all embarrassingly sweet and also the reason why George hates me, but it’s fine now. I’m over him.”

“Is that why you’ve never bothered with relationships then? Because the one time you tried it didn’t work out?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t really care to be honest. I think I also just liked the attention that sleeping around got me.”

“If Pierre said sorry, gave you a chance to start over, and you could just forget everything, and there wasn’t this ‘slut shaming’ hanging over you, what would you do? If everything with Mick had still happened but people hadn’t called you out for sleeping around?”

Charles sighed and took a moment to think it over. 

What would he have done? 

He’d already said no when Pierre has asked him on a date, what did that mean?

Why would it be any different if Pierre apologised?

He wasn’t ready, clearly. 

He wasn’t ready to let people in. 

He wasn’t ready to let _Pierre_ in.

“I’d still say no,” Charles admitted. 

Dan scraped his fingers through Charles’ hair and didn’t say anything more. 

“I’m not ready, Dan. What if I’m never ready?” he asked in a quiet, almost timid, voice.

“Then you can be the hermit that lives at the bottom of our garden and scavenges off our food and spends half your life flirting with the most beautiful people on this planet and the other half creating outfits to stick on the world’s runways.”

Charles nodded into Daniel’s chest and closed his eyes. 

If he kept his eyes closed, he could just dream that everything was normal. 

That Pierre wasn’t the bad guy and Charles wasn’t the fucked up one. 

That his brain wasn’t whispering at him to just end it all. 

“Would you miss me?” Charles quietly asked, his voice barely audible. 

He almost hoped Daniel wouldn’t hear him.

Then he couldn’t feel guilty when he did it.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. 

He was always destined to do this. 

He wasn’t the one that got a happy-

“Do not think, for a single second, that everyone wouldn’t miss you. You are so fucking important, to Max, to me, to your dads and Valtteri. You’re Charlotte’s best friend, you’re Carole’s favourite tutee and you’re the kid that LCF are waiting for. You are so important, and you would be missed so damn much. Nothing would be the same without you,” Daniel told him, his voice strong with conviction. 

Charles almost wanted to believe him. 

But he knew it wasn’t the truth. 

He wasn’t that important. 

The world didn’t need another fashion designer. 

He wasn’t that good or unique. 

The world needed more of Max. 

He needed Max.

“I’m so tired, Dan,” Charles whispered, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. “I don’t want to keep doing this.”

“This is a glitch in the system, and one day, there will be a fix and things will run a bit smoother. The glitch will probably always be there, but it won’t rule things anymore. That’s what you need to remember. One glitch doesn’t need to bring the whole system down. You just need to restart, reset, and have a team of people working to help manage it.”

“I don’t want that anymore, I don’t want anything, I want it to all be over.”

“Have you spoke to your parents about this? To Ada?”

“No because you can’t fix this shit!” Charles exploded, pushing off Dan and nearly falling off the bed, “Grown-ups only want to fix things and when they can’t, they get this fucking feeling of shame and regret and disappointment. And I don’t fucking care about other people anymore, I just want my brain to stop!”

Daniel sat up, steadying Charles but didn’t hold onto him, careful to not touch him beyond anything reasonable. 

“I just want everything to fucking stop! I want everyone to stop treating me like I’m a goddamn piece of glass, I want people to stop acting like I’m worth something because I’m not! I’m a fucking failure, I’m a fucked up idiot, and I don’t fucking deserve anything!” Charles screamed, his voice breaking as sobs erupted from his soul. 

Daniel didn’t say anything, simply pulled Charles into his arms and let him scream and cry, holding his hands down when he started clawing at his wrists and his arms. Dan shushed Charles as he sobbed, pulling his hands whenever they started straying to his wrists or towards his hair, squeezing him tight to remind him that no matter what, he wasn’t alone. 

“I just want it all to fucking stop,” Charles sobbed, “I was doing so good.”

“You’re still doing amazing, kid, a blip, a glitch, something to work through. You can’t expect to be functioning at 100% all the time. No one ever does. And sure, maybe you have more rough days than most people, but the days that you’re happy? The ones where you get to hug the people you love and they get to tell you just how fucking important you are? Those are the best days, Charles, and they’ll come. You just need to give them some time.”

“It’s never going to fucking come, not for someone like me,” Charles sobbed. 

“Yes they will, I promise you, Charles. You will be happy, and there will be days when you wake up and you will go ‘wow I didn’t have a nightmare last night’, or you’ll go a couple of days laughing and then realise ‘wow, I haven’t wanted to kill myself lately’. It’s hard, and it’s going to take time, but you will do it. You are the most stubborn bastard I have ever met, there’s no one quite like you, Charles,” Dan promised, cradling Charles’ jaw in his hands as he brushed his tears away. 

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“You had those days before Pierre came along, Charles, you have to remember that. That between you getting admitted to LCF and you meeting Pierre, those happier days were happening. This is something that’s come along to be a gli-”

“A glitch in the system,” Charles interrupted, “But it’s not forever.”

“No,” Dan grinned, “It’s not forever, Chaos.”

Charles nodded, the tears falling rapidly still but his sobbing was lessening. 

“I’m going to go get you some water, you sit and fish me some more fish so I can win boyfriend of the year, and then we’ll go and fetch Charlotte and Max in a like half an hour, yeah?”

Charles nodded again, scrubbed his eyes to dispel the worst of the tears, and picked Max’s Switch back up. Daniel shuffled off the bed and moved to leave, but not before pushing Charles’ hair off his forehead and pressing a kiss there. 

“You would be missed and you are so fucking loved, don’t forget that,” Dan swore. 

Charles took a deep breath in and squeezed his eyes shut, letting the words echo around his head. 

He would be missed. 

He is loved.

He just hoped that his brain would let him remember that. 

~

Sitting shotgun in Dan’s car, Charles chewed on the string of his hoodie as he waited for his brother and Charlotte to come out of school. 

Charlotte had text him, told him about Pierre and that she was sorry. 

Charles simply text back that he was glad she’d done it. 

It wasn’t the right thing to do, he knew that. But there was something cathartic about knowing he’d felt some of the pain that Charles did. To understand that all it took was a rumour and one thing to happen and your world can be turned upside down. 

“Do you think I should tell Pierre everything?” Charles asked, spinning his head to look at Dan. 

Dan sighed, thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged,

“It’s up to you. I think you’d probably find it helpful to do it, but I don’t think you should push yourself to talk to him if you’re not ready.”

Charles didn’t say anything more, instead looking back out of the window. 

Part of him wanted to tell Pierre, to get the dirty laundry aired and to tell him that things were never as easy as ABC. Charles couldn’t do that. He needed time, he needed patience, and he needed someone to understand that no matter how difficult they thought he was, his brain only made things 50 times worse. 

Charles watched out of the window as his fellow students started to stream out of school, looking for his brother and best friend through them all. 

He spotted Charlotte bouncing at Max’s side, her restless energy exuberating as she explained something to Max. Max was clutching the straps of his backpack tight as he listened intently, frowning slightly and biting the corner of his lip the way that he did when he was focusing. 

It made Charles smile seeing the two most important people in his life interacting. 

Nothing could ever be good though. 

Charles’ eyes strayed sideways, catching on two people in an intense conversation. 

Pierre was stood in front of Antonio. 

Antonio. 

One of his oldest friends who was not a friend anymore. 

And probably one of the people telling Pierre why Charles was so fucked up. 

“Dan-” Charles whimpered, and Dan took his hand in his. 

“Ignore them, you’re better than them.”

“But what if-”

Dan grabbed Charles’ jaw, his face inches from Charles’ and Charles instinctively pulled away. 

“Oh you shithead,” Charles grinned when he realised what Dan had been doing.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t actually kiss you, I don’t think Mr Sexy Ass would appreciate it,” Dan said as Max climbed into the car. 

“Excuse me, what?!” Max asked, leaning between the front seats and staring incredulously at them both. 

“Hey Lottie,” Charles murmured, turning and pushing his brother back into his seat so he could see his best friend. 

“Just an FYI, I have detention tomorrow, so can you come and hang out with me?” Charlotte asked, and Charles simply nodded. 

If anyone was going to be able to get him to come back to school it would be Charlotte. 

Everyone thought Charles was stubborn, but damn was Charlotte just as bad as he was. 

“Fine,” he agreed, “But if we see him-”

“Pretty sure he’s terrified of me now,” Charlotte grinned happily. 

“Everyone is scared of you, you five-foot piece of terror.”

Charlotte flicked her hair off her shoulder as she grinned at Charles. 

“It’s why we work so well together darling.”

Charles laughed slightly, all thoughts of Pierre falling from his mind as Charlotte started to tell him about an argument between their art teacher and a student that Charlotte hated. There was something comforting about Charlotte, something Charles would never be able to put his finger on, but she truly felt like the sister he never had. 

And when he saw his brother and Dan exchange a look in the rear-view mirror, he knew what they were thinking. 

Charlotte was one of the best remedies for Charles, and having her around just made it all that bit easier to breathe sometimes. 

“I want to tell Pierre everything.” Charles interrupted, his voice soft. 

“Everything?” Max questioned. 

“Well everything about Mick, yeah. And probably a bit of before that too.”

“If you think that’s the right decision,” Charlotte agreed, leaning forward and squeezing Charles’ shoulder. 

“Not yet, though. I need to figure out what I’m going to say, and then I’m going to do it. It’s what’s stopping me from moving on. I need to look him in the eye and tell him why what he did hurt so much. I want him to understand what went wrong.”

“You don’t owe him shit though, Charles, remember that,” Dan nudged, “If he’s a prick, you don’t owe him an explanation, yeah?”

Charles nodded and let out a shaky sigh. 

When they got home, Charles grabbed Charlotte’s hand and pulled her up to his room, the two of them falling onto his bed, shuffling up until their heads were on the pillows and laying there looking at each other. 

“I’m sorry for slapping him,” Charlotte told him. 

“No, you’re not, you’re just sorry you got caught.”

Charlotte shrugged and nodded. 

“He deserved it. I had a right go at him. He does feel sorry for what he did and he knows he did something bad, but I just keep thinking about him telling you’re fucked up, like what kind of prick does that?”

“A prick I fucking have feelings for,” Charles admitted quietly. 

“I know you do,” Charlotte smiled, “You want to tell him so that he can understand you, and so that when you feel ready, you can date him. I know what you’re doing, I’m not stupid, Charles.”

Charles bit his lip and looked down.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Most likely a terrible one, but we won’t know until you do it. And you need to do it, you need to get it out of your head.”

“What if it all goes to shit?”

“I’ll slap him again,” Charlotte grinned and Charles knew she wasn’t joking. 

“Sometimes I wish you were into boys, it’d be so much easier dating you,” Charles whispered, brushing Charlotte’s hair off her face. 

“Except we’d murder each other within five seconds of dating and you know it.”

Charles scoffed but she was right. The pair of them were incredibly stubborn and together they’d achieve nothing. But as best friends, they could take on the world, smiling through it, and come out the King and Queen of it all. 

“Where you got to go for your detention?”

“Art department, I’ve got to go and run through the set design and do the lighting for one of the songs, and you can help me with it.”

“What use will I be?”

“It’s for the drama department, you know that was your second home growing up, and I need your help with figuring out the best way to put it together when the actor is on the stage, and I cannot separate myself into two people, so you can be there and stand where I tell you to, and then I can work out what we’re going to do, capeesh?”

Charles rolled his eyes, knowing that Charlotte wasn’t going to stop at just getting him to stand there and look pretty.

“I really hate you, you know that, don’t you?” Charles murmured.

“Oh 100%, and that’s why you’re my best friend,” Charlotte grinned, “Also, can you go visit my island and drop off some peach trees?”

Charles sighed at her and rolled over to get his Switch. Charlotte smiled and kissed his cheek, sitting up on the bed and dragging her sketchbook out of her bag. 

“Also, I need your help with figuring out the colour scheme for this dress.”

Charles nodded, holding his Switch above his head and running around his island before going to visit Charlotte’s. 

The things he did for his best friend, aye?

**\-- Thursday 9th July 2020 --**

Charles could see the reluctance in his parents eyes to let him go to school the next day. They both wanted him to stay off, to ignore the rest of the school year. 

But Charles didn’t want to let everyone else win. 

He was tired of it. He wanted to _fucking try_.

Instead of dressing in sweats and a hoodie like he’d grown prone to at home over the last few days, Charles pulled on navy and burgundy tartan trousers, an oversized navy blue t-shirt and his white trainers. 

When Charles looked in the mirror, he felt like himself. 

He looked like himself. 

He didn’t look like he’d just spent two and a half days in bed contemplating whether he could get away with sneaking out to go and do something that his family would never recover from. Or maybe they would, Charles had no idea. But he was past the point of knowing what to do anymore. 

Instead he looked like his normal self. 

He looked like the boy who wanted the world to love him. 

He needed to be him because otherwise he was going to drown. 

Charles packed his French and English Lit notebooks and his textiles sketchbook into his backpack and shouldered the bag. He walked downstairs and gave his parents a smile. 

“Not the fuckin’ tartan again,” Seb sighed, but he winked at Charles when he said it. 

“I look hot,” Charles shrugged.

“You look like a knock off Scotsman,” Max said, nudging Charles’ shoulder as he walked past. 

“Alright, but I look hot though, don’t I?” Charles questioned. 

Max turned and raised his hands in the ‘I don’t know and I don’t care’ motion. 

“I look hot then,” Charles concluded, dumping his bag on the counter and sliding his water bottle and lunchbox in beside his schoolbooks. 

No one said anything and Charles took it as a win. 

“I’m sticking back after school today, Charlotte’s got detention for what she did to Pierre and she wants me to help her out,” Charles told them. 

His parents exchanged a look, clearly wondering whether to trust Charles or not, and Charles sighed. 

“We’re going to be in the drama department working on the art stuff. If you want, you can phone my teacher and ask. I will also send photos of me and Charlotte doing stuff if you want.”

“What time does her detention finish?”

“I imagine it’s just half an hour, I didn’t actually ask.”

“I’ll be waiting for you at the gate from 4:30,” Kimi told him and Charles nodded. 

“I’ll text you if it’s going on longer,” Charles agreed.

His parents exchanged another look, Max flicking his eyes back and forth between Charles and their parents, before Kimi nodded. 

“No later than 4:45, do you understand?”

Charles nodded, smiling hopefully at them.

“Fine then, you can help Charlotte,” they acquiesced. 

Charles pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Charlotte.

Charlotte🔥💕   
  
what time is your deto meant to finish   
  
4:40   
  
Cool dad is gonna pick me up at 4:45 otherwise they might have a meltdown thinking ive snuck off to kill myself   
  
Nope just getting you on the stage today   
  
THAT WASNT PART OF THE AGREEMENT  
  


Charlotte never text him back.

The little brat.

Charlotte bounced at his side when he arrived at school, hugging him tight and murmuring,

“You can’t kill me I’m your best friend.”

“And my Dad is the best fuckin’ lawyer in London, I’ll get off without a charge you little shit.”

“Your Dad’s hot, he won’t let me die,” Charlotte nudged. 

“STOP CALLING MY DAD HOT!” Charles screamed, slamming his hands over his ears as Charlotte burst out laughing. 

“It’s the suit, Charles, what can I say? I may be gay but fuckin’ hell men in suits, am I right?”

“I AM VERY MUCH NOT HEARING YOU RIGHT NOW!”

“Like your Dad pulling down his tie as he leans against the counter? Woah,” Charlotte continued just to see Charles gag. 

“I really wish a block button existed in real life.”

“I believe they call it a restraining order, or murder, one of the two.”

“Well I’ve already got the restraining order, maybe we could try murder,” Charles joked, and Charlotte thought about it for a second. 

“Don’t murder Charlotte, she’s the prettiest lady in the land,” Alex told him, making Charles jump as he appeared from nowhere. 

“Aw Alex, you are the sweetest bean,” Charlotte said, cradling his cheeks and smushing them slightly, “I knew there was a reason you’re my favourite.”

“Excuse me, am I no longer Mr Best Friend?” Charles interrupted.

“Charles, you just threatened to murder her, what are you expecting?”

“I didn’t threaten, I simply suggested it was an option!” 

Alex grinned and rolled his eyes. 

“It’s nice having you back, buddy,” Alex admitted quietly, “How are things?”

“Trying to not spiral,” Charles told him, “Trying to let myself not feel guilty for trying to live.”

“Never forget that you’re important, there’s no other Charles Räikkönen-Vettel on the planet. You’re the special one, yeah? No matter what anyone else says, there’s no one that could ever take your place.”

Charles felt tears pool in his eyes at Alex’s words. 

“I know,” Charles whispered, and Alex tentatively hugged him. 

Charles wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and hugged him back, taking a moment to appreciate the serenity washing over him. 

There was a reason why Alex was his first crush. 

“I want you to know, I always remember that night, and I still feel guilty for what I did,” Alex murmured. 

“Don’t,” Charles looked up at him, “Don’t feel guilty. You’re happy aren’t you?”

Alex nodded somewhat reluctantly. 

“That’s what I want. I’d rather you were happy then spend all that time wishing I was him. I had enough of other people doing that. I’m just glad you’re happy.”

“George still doesn’t really like you.”

“That’s fine, most people don’t anyway,” Charles shrugged. 

“It’ll brighten one day, Charles, the world won’t always be dark.”

Alex pressed a kiss to Charles’ forehead and let Charlotte drag him away. 

Charles didn’t let go of Charlotte’s hand as she walked him to French. 

“Alex is right, you know,” Charlotte said, pulling Charles out of his emptiness, “You can smile and it’s not illegal. It doesn’t invalidate your depression or anything.”

“I think murdering you might be illegal though,” Charles joked instead. 

Charlotte didn’t laugh, but she curled her lips up in a soft and loving smile.

When they got to Charles’ class, Charlotte hugged him as tight as she possibly could, causing Charles’ organs to feel like they were being squished beneath him. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Charlotte said, and Charles nodded. 

He took a deep breath, pulled away from Charlotte and sat down in his seat. He nodded a hello to Carole, and pulled his notebook out of his bag. He searched for his favourite pen. He took a deep breath. 

He could do this. 

And he did.

The entire day, Charles flipped between going to class and hanging with his friends, talking and hanging with Lando and Alex in their free second period. Lando was _still_ coding the game he’d been working on since October, but it was fun listening to him trying to work out why the game wasn’t working. 

For someone that was hoping to go and study computer science at uni, Lando was _really bad_ at using computers. 

By the time the end of the day rolled around, Charles hadn’t seen Pierre once. 

Whether it had been his eyes strategically pulling him away from looking at him or whether Pierre just wasn’t around, Charles had no idea. But he didn’t exactly care. 

Part of him wanted to see Pierre. To look him in the eye and show him that he hadn’t won. 

That Charles’ brain hadn’t won. 

He was here, he was fighting, and he was trying his _goddamn best_. 

No matter how fucked up Pierre thought he was. 

“Charlotte, I was told to tell you that you will be given a free pass to not be supervised the entirety of your detention. Your head of year will come down and check you are there, but they trust you to get on with the lighting work, okay?” Amy told Charlotte as she and Charles headed out at the end of textiles. 

Charlotte nodded, 

“Thanks, Amy.”

“Now you have no excuse not to get on that stage,” Charlotte grinned, tugging Charles along behind her. 

“I really hate you.”

“I know,” Charlotte sang, “And yet you still love me.”

“Debatable.”

When they got into the auditorium, Charlotte had a quick word with their head of year and Charles flopped down into one of the seats at the front, balancing his foot on the edge of the stage and slouching so much he was invisible to anyone that wasn’t on the front row. 

Charlotte jumped onto the stage, heading back and fiddling with turning the lights on, before she popped her head around the curtain and motioned Charles onto it. 

“No,” Charles shook his head.

“Come on,” Charlotte begged.

“Make me,” Charles grinned. 

“You promised.”

“I didn’t promise shit.”

Charlotte sighed and jumped off the stage, grabbing onto Charles’ hand.

“Come on, I need your help, you’re the only one who can carry the tune,” Charlotte begged, tugging on Charles’ hand as she pulled him up. 

Charles sighed as he followed her.

“But why do I need to sing? Can you just play the audio?”

“Yes, I could, but you’re my best friend and you can also sing really fucking good and you can’t say no to me. And it’s easier if I see how someone would actually sing it to figure out the best places to shine the lights,” Charlotte winked and Charles knew she had a point.

Charlotte dragged Charles onto the stage, giving him a moment to become comfortable there again. 

As Charles stood there, looking out over their auditorium and the way that the lines shone down on him, it was like he was born to be on the stage again. 

Coming back here was like coming home. 

He’d grown up doing theatre alongside ballet, and he’d loved it. Studying it for his GCSEs had seen him land the starring role in their end of year production. Something that he’d never told his family about. How he’d kept it a secret and done the productions without them finding out he still didn’t know.

Well he did.

They all thought he was out partying and getting drunk.

Which he did, but only once the show was over. 

Instead he’d stood on that stage, sang his heart out and felt like he was a real person. 

“I’m bad news, a black and blue-ser,” Charles gently began as Charlotte played the music and started moving the lighting and changing the colour and intensity as Charles sang each line.

Slowly he took on the role again. Playing Charlie, the owner of a factory that made shoes for drag queens. Playing the role of someone that had been knocked down but was going to get back up. 

Who was going to keep fighting.

Like he had to.

Charles kept his eyes closed as he sang, one hand resting on his stomach, pulling the lyrics from his very core,

_“The same old Charlie hitting the ground, cause I’ll never be the soul of a man, noble and wise,”_

The words cut deep as Charles kept singing, his voice faltering at one point like it had during one of the shows. When the words _’I guess I’m a rude in my father‘s shoes’_ come tumbling from his lips, when the words _’I’m that broken heel Unsteady and ready and ready to drop’_ fell from his heart, when the final lines _’Here comes that familiar sound, same old Charlie hitting the ground’_ was joined by tears dropping between his feet. 

Every part of his old soul was flying from his heart. 

Charles dropped to the floor with the last note, tears falling quicker and quicker.

Charlotte was quick to fall down beside him, pulling Charles into her arms and holding him tight.

“That’s all you, Charles, you fucking did that, you talented fucking prick,” Charlotte whispered, tears following the same pattern as Charles. 

Charles looked up at Charlotte with watery eyes and a huge smile on his face.

“I want to do it again, I want to start over,” he told her. 

And he knew that she understood the words. He didn’t mean that he wanted to try the song again. 

He meant that he wanted to restart his life. 

To stop hiding.

To stop lying.

To just let the world know who Charles Räikkönen-Vettel really was.

And he wanted Charlotte by his side.

“Then let’s do it,” Charlotte grinned, kissing Charles’ cheek and hugging his neck so damn tight. 

Charles buried his face against Charlotte’s shoulder, pressing against her bare skin and feeling the warmth pouring through. 

“I love you,” Charles told her. 

“I love you too,” Charlotte told him.

“It’s time to text Pierre, isn’t it?”

“Yeah it is, babes, it’s time to talk.”

Pierre   
  
You need to hear my side of the story   
  
Of course   
  
Come to mine tomorrow   
  
Remind me of your address and I’ll be there   
  


Charles text him his address, locked his phone and hugged Charlotte’s waist. Neither of them had gotten up, Charlotte carding her fingers through Charles’ hair and sticking it on end.

“Come here,” Charlotte grinned, pulling her phone up to take a photo of them both.

Charlotte tucked herself against Charles’ side, and for the first time in a while, Charles smiled authentically in a photo. 

“See that?” Charlotte said, showing him the photo, “You can be happy, and the world isn’t going to break down.”

“The world might not but I probably will,” Charles pointed out.

“And one of these days you won’t. One day you’ll finally wake up and won’t want to die as much. And then another day it’ll be a little less. And over time, things will get better. Don’t dispel the four months of progress you made for three and a half weeks of things going bad. Actually, half a week of things going bad. It’s okay to not be okay, Charles. And this is just a bad spell, okay? It’s not going to stay forever.”

“I’m really going to miss you when it comes to going to university,” Charles admitted.

“Hold onto that thought,” Charlotte said cryptically and Charles raised his eyebrow at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see in a few months,” Charlotte winked.

“Guess you’re just giving me a reason to stay alive, aren’t you?”

“I can’t have you dying before you know what I’m thinking of for uni, can I? You can’t die not knowing everything, Charlie. There’s a reason you’re the popular kid. You know everything and everyone.”

“And all I need is you,” Charles told her.

Charlotte over exaggeratedly rolled her eyes.

“Careful, Räikkönen-Vettel, if you’re not careful I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

“Nah, not French enough.”

“Oh, oui oui mademoiselle je suis très français,” Charlotte said, deliberately putting on an over the top stereotypical French accent.

“That was awful,” Charles told her, “For someone born in Monaco, you’re really bad at that.”

“Keeps you smiling, baby,” Charlotte winked, and Charles just shook his head.

He dropped his head back onto Charlotte’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Maybe he didn’t have to kill himself, not yet anyway. 

Whether talking about it all to Pierre would make him want to again, however, that was a whole different ballgame that Charles had no idea how to play.

**\-- Friday 10th July --**

Charles woke up knowing it was a bad day. 

He should’ve known when he sent that text message yesterday that this would happen. 

That he’d wake up at 4am to his head screaming _’die die die die die die’_ at him. 

Charles threw his head back into the pillow. 

He wished he could scream but he felt empty.

He didn’t want to fucking deal with this anymore. 

Charles pushed himself off his bed, grabbed a towel, and went through to the bathroom, starting the shower on high, ignoring how early it was. 

Slowly Charles pulled his clothes off, looking in the mirror as more and more inches of skin were exposed. 

Charles turned in the mirror.

Sharp elbows, defined lines of ribs, hip bones jutting out. 

He’d always been small, always teased the line between being a healthy and an unhealthy weight. But this was bad again. 

Why could he never just do anything right?

He hadn’t meant to let this happen.

It was just another example of the fucking failure he was born to be. 

Could never do anything right. 

If he can’t fucking feed himself properly why should he bother breathing anymore?

It was fucking pointless

He was a disgrace of a human being

He didn’t deserve that title

He deserved the title of being a fucking corpse

That’s what he looked like

Charles turned his back to the mirror and pushed his boxers down, stepping into the shower. 

He grabbed his body wash, shampoo and conditioner, and sunk to the floor. 

Charles placed them beside him as he pulled his knees to his chest. 

His eyes fell shut as he lifted his head to feel the pellets of water attacking his skin

At least this was something warm and normal

At least he could shower without a problem

He just wasn’t trusted with his razor anymore

He’d have to ask his Dad if he could have it

Sure he’d be watched, but maybe it would help him feel more normal if he cleaned himself up

Charles scratched at his cheek, feeling the scratchy hairs of the beginnings of facial hair creeping up from under the surface

Slowly Charles started to wash his hair, never once bothering to stand up

He couldn’t trust his legs to keep him up

As the water cascaded over him, it was like it was trying to cleanse his soul

It didn’t work

But it was nice to know something was fighting back for him. 

Charles quickly scrubbed his body wash over him, careful to not let his hands linger.

No point inciting a panic attack at 4:30 in the morning whilst you’re naked sitting on the floor of your shower

When Charles felt _somewhat_ cleaner than before, when Mick’s words of _you’re a dirty boy_ weren’t quite as loud in his head, he shut the shower off. 

He didn’t stand up though. 

His skin was red and raw.

Both from being scrubbed at and also from the heat of the water. 

He’d probably turned it up too high.

He didn’t care. 

It was hard to care these days.

Charles sat in the silence of the bathroom for a bit longer, his only company being the drips of water falling from the shower-head and hitting the cold marbled floor of the shower.

Charles closed his eyes and hugged his knees tight to his chest, resting his forehead on his knees. 

“Charles?” Max’s voice came through, knocking on the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second,” Charles said, reluctance seeping through. 

Charles grabbed the shower door and pulled it open, grabbed his towel and wound it around him. 

He pulled the bathroom door open, smiling exhaustedly at Max. 

“Why you up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Charles admitted, “Thought having a shower might help.”

Max took one look over him and said, 

“You’re not coming to school today, are you?”

Charles shook his head.

“I can’t think straight; my head is spinning like crazy.”

“You mean your head is screaming at you to kill yourself.”

Charles reluctantly nodded. 

“Anything I can do?”

“I just want to sleep, Max,” Charles told him, “I just want to be able to _sleep_.”

“Come on,” Max nudged, “Get dressed and then come to my room.”

Charles wandered through to his room and grabbed shorts and a t-shirt, pulling them on and ran the towel over his head, drying his hair as best as he could. 

When he got to Max’s room, Max held the corner of his blanket up and Charles slid in beside him. 

“Why am I always such a fuck up?” Charles whispered, barely audible but he knew Max would catch it. 

Max always caught him

“You’re not. Not always. Sometimes you _fuck up_ , but we all do. That’s life, Charlie, and you’re not a bad person for making mistakes.”

“What if it goes wrong with Pierre? This is my last chance at being normal, and I could right royally fuck it up.”

“Then it does, and unfortunately you close the book on him. You end the chapter and you move on.”

“I’m not ready for the chapter to end, Max.”

“Sometimes you never are. Sometimes it ends in a way you don’t agree with, but it has to end. Sometimes it ends happy, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it ends in a way that leaves you screaming and others with tears. But it has to end. Every story has a finish line. And you need to know that you’re not a bad person for wanting to rewrite it. But you can’t. The story with Mick is over. The story after Mick is only just beginning.”

“Do you ever think about what would happen if things ended with you and Dan?”

“I try not to, obviously sometimes I do, and I wonder how badly one of us has to fuck things up to cause us to split, but you can’t spend your entire life trying to work out the future. It’s hard enough living in the now, just give yourself chance with now, okay?”

Charles nodded and burrowed his head into Max’s chest, closing his eyes and letting Max’s protection keep his warm. 

He still wanted to die, there was no changing that

But maybe he could hold off a bit. 

Charles fell asleep against Max, holding his brother like he was a stuffed toy and not wanting to let go. If he didn’t let go, then he wouldn’t drown. He wouldn’t get taken out by the unstoppable forces. 

His big brother protected him. 

_For how fucking long though? How long before he forgets you exist again?_

Charles wrenched his eyes open, sitting up suddenly and looking for Max. 

Max who wasn’t in his bedroom. 

Max whose backpack wasn’t here. 

No no no no no

This can’t be happening again

And Charles wasn’t dreaming this time

He stumbled out of bed, falling to the floor in his haste to get out of the door

“Max?!” He screamed, hoping his brother would come back to him

_Looks like we didn’t have to wait long, he’s already gone_

“No no no no no,” Charles mumbled, sinking onto the floor and tugging at his hair. 

Max had promised him he’d keep him safe.

Why wasn’t Max here?

“Charles, Charles, I need you to sit up for me, son,” Kimi murmured. 

Charles opened his eyes and looked up at his Dad. 

Charles reached out a hand and touched him. 

It didn’t go through him

His Dad was really here

“Dad?”

“Max is at school, kiddo, Dan picked him up about an hour ago, he tried to wake you up but you was fast asleep.”

“I don’t want to be alive anymore, Dad,” Charles whimpered, “I can’t keep fucking doing this. I don’t want to keep fucking breaking down because my fucking brother leaves the house.”

“Charles-”

“It’s too hard, I can’t, Dad, I fucking can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Kimi told him adamantly, “You can. You’re doing it every day. You are doing so fucking good, Charles.”

“I’m not!” He argued, “His voice is getting louder every single day, I can’t even wake up without hearing him telling me to die, maybe I fucking should!”

“No! Fuck, Charles, he’s a stupid voice for a reason. Max fought it, so can you. If anything, you’ll be better at it. You’re a strong, stubborn little shit, and you _can fight him_. You are good enough.”

“What if I’m not?”

“The fact that you’re questioning it, kid, you’re already fighting. You’re a Räikkönen-Vettel, remember that. We don’t go down without a fight,” Kimi told him, pulling his boy into his arms and cradling him tight. 

Charles didn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to keep fighting. 

He was just so fucking tired. 

“I want to go to bed,” Charles whispered. 

Kimi helped Charles up, his arms tucked under Charles’ own as he walked him to his room. 

“I’m going to make you some breakfast, and then I need your help designing a tattoo okay?”

Charles nodded, not really wanting to, but he knew he couldn’t fight his Dad on this. He curled under his blanket, trying to pretend the world didn’t exist. 

Charles’ phone chiming made him jump.

Pierre   
  
Are you at school today?   
  
no   
  
Why?   
  
Bc I don’t want to   
  
Are you okay?   
  
No   
  
Want me to do anything?   
  


Charles contemplated writing ’kill me because then no one can be angry at me or feel guilty for not stopping me’ but didn’t.

Instead he wrote,

Pierre   
  
No   
  
Can I still come over?   
  
Yep   
  
See you tonight x   
  


Charles sighed as his phone vibrated with another message, but he was already done. He curled up tighter against his pillow, throwing his phone across the room and hearing it smack into the wall.

“You alright kid?” Kimi asked as he came back into the room.

“Can people stop asking me if I’m okay? I’m not, why can’t we just accept that and move the fuck on with our lives?!”

“Charles-”

“God it’s times like this that I wish I’d just fucking killed myself when I had the chances,” Charles muttered, scratching at the skin around his wrist.

Kimi grabbed his hands and pulled them off him, holding Charles’ hands in his. 

“Kid…”

“I hate this,” Charles said, his voice cracking and burying his face in the pillow as tears barrelled down his face, “I hate my fucking head so much.”

Kimi pulled Charles into his lap, rocking Charles like he was a toddler again. Charles clutched Kimi’s shirt into his fists, bunching the fabric in his hands and sobbing hard.

“He was just being fucking nice and my head just screams at me. I hate it, I fucking hate it,” Charles sobbed, “I don’t want to fucking exist, it’s easier when I just don’t.”

“Nothing is easier, Charles. It never is.”

“I hate living, it’s too hard, I just want to fucking vanish.”

“No you don’t. That’s your head pulling tricks on you. You smiled yesterday, you sang to Charlotte yesterday, you didn’t want to die yesterday. You were _happy_ , Charles. You can do anything you want to, but you need to stop expecting things to be okay with a flick of your wrist. Things are shit, but that’s why we’re here. Me, your Dad, your brothers, even fuckin’ Dan, Charlotte. We all care about you.”

“But why? I’m nothing.”

“You are my son. You are my little artist. You’re my little drama king. You’re the person that can sing. You’re the person that creates amazing art. You’re the person that is going to the London College of Fashion. You’re the kid that learnt French because you made a friend when you were six. You are an amazing young man, and you deserve to allow for people to love you.”

“Sounds fake but whatever,” Charles muttered, wiping his tears on his Dad’s t-shirt. 

“It’s not fake, kiddo, it’s very real, it will always be real.”

Charles shook his head but didn’t argue. He was tired of it. 

He didn’t believe him. 

Part of him did. 

Probably his heart.

His head never would. 

But Mick’s voice echoed in his head. 

_“Kill yourself and save us all the hassle”_

Charles squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn’t let Mick win today.

He needed to talk to Pierre. 

“Pierre’s coming round later,” Charles told Kimi to distract himself. 

“Is he really?”

“I’m going to talk to him. I was talking to Charlotte the other day and we just kinda agreed that the reason why I can’t get over things is because I need to be honest with him and I can’t move on until I close that chapter of him.”

“Is he coming over after school?”

Charles took a deep breath and sighed, 

“Yeah, he finishes at ten past four like Max, so I think he’ll come over about 5ish. I know Dan isn’t bringing him back, think Max refuses to get in a car with him.”

“Probably do you some good to have some time once your brother gets home to think about it all.”

Charles nodded, curling into Kimi and watching as he started drawing on his iPad. 

“What’s the tattoo?”

“It’s going to be a boat for a certain dickhead,” Kimi sighed.

“He’s finally settled on a design?” 

Kimi nodded and Charles rested his head on Kimi’s shoulder, slowly chewing dry toast as he watched Kimi work. 

“Change that bit to a lighter blue,” Charles nudged, and Kimi followed his instruction. 

Charles nodded, his eyes pulling closed after a while and dropping off against his Dad’s chest. 

He still wanted to die. 

He guessed that could wait for a bit though. 

~~

Charles restlessly sat on the sofa, bouncing his leg and clutching Tommy between his fingers. 

Whether it was a bad idea to get Pierre to come over or not he didn’t know. He thought being on his home turf, being on his ground, in his ends, that it would make it easier to talk about it. 

Except all that was going through his head was the nightmare from Sunday. 

Hearing Mick in his house. 

He’d obviously talked about Mick at home. 

Had talked about Mick in this very room. 

He’d sat in front of the fireplace less than two meters from where he currently sat and showed his parents his sketchbooks, told them he had applied to the London College of Fashion, had pulled his shirt off and displayed the bruises that almost seemed tattooed into his skin and told them about Mick. He’d had panic attacks, screaming nightmares, days in which he couldn’t sleep because all he heard was Mick’s voice in his head telling him to _fucking die you worthless whore_ and he’d stumble down the stairs and sit on the sofa, cuddled under the blanket and have the dark purple circles paint themselves around his eyes as he failed to sleep yet again, until either his dads or brothers would find out he wasn’t in his bed and would come and join him, talk softly until he was able to fall asleep in their arms. 

Inevitably it was always about Mick. 

Charles didn’t even need to say his name anymore. 

The dangerous voice in his head had taken on Mick’s voice. 

And every single day, Charles wondered whether it would be Mick or Max’s voice that won out. 

Whether things would be normal or whether he’d be screaming the house down, begging to be let go so he could go and _fucking die_.

So that he could leave this stupid planet and stop being a burden. 

So that he could stop fucking existing because what was the point of breathing anymore?

What was the point of anything?

Life was so fucking pointless. 

Max didn’t need him, he had Daniel now. 

Valtteri didn’t need him, he was going to uni in two months and he had Lewis. 

His dads didn’t need him. They had Max and Valtteri. 

Why would anyone need the spare fucking part? 

Because that’s all Charles was. 

The baby

The one that was dragged along

Buy one kid get the one with damage for free

The care home practically begged Seb and Kimi to take him

Begged that someone finally relinquish them of the kid that wet the bed and cried

Hoping that they would no longer have to deal with the kid that didn’t let anyone be happy 

No one needed Charles.

Why did he possibly think he was worth it?

Charles looked over his shoulder, checking that no one was behind him or watching as he slipped his phone from his pocket. 

Shakily Charles pulled the notes app up on his phone.

_I don’t want you to feel guilty. Don’t. This isn’t about you. This is about me. I’m the failure. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve to live. I’m the one that feels guilty every day for taking up oxygen that someone else deserves more than me. Don’t miss me. Move on_

Charles was cut off from any further typing when the doorbell went. Max and Dan were up in Max’s room, sent there by Charles so that he could talk to Pierre alone. 

His Dad was still at work. His Isä was in the garage. 

Valtteri was at hockey practice. 

He knew that Max and Dan would end up coming and sitting on the stairs, to listen in and check that things were okay. 

Charles didn’t care

As long as he didn’t have to see their faces when he said what he was going to he didn’t mind.

Charles pushed himself up, tying the blanket around his shoulders and dropping his phone onto the sofa. 

He’d come back to that later.

“Hi,” Pierre murmured as Charles pulled the door open. 

Charles knew he looked a mess. The circles under his eyes were dark, his hair was a mess, and his eyes heavy from all the on and off crying to his Dad. 

“Come in,” Charles said shortly. 

Pierre followed awkwardly behind Charles, careful to not stand on his blanket cape and sat down on the sofa opposite the chair Charles curled up in. He crossed his legs underneath him, stuffed Tommy between his legs to hold if he got too scared or panicky and took a deep breath. 

“You fucked up,” Charles said without preamble, and Pierre went wide-eyed at him. 

As Charles stared at him, he saw the purple bruising around his mouth where Charlotte had slapped him, his lip still slightly swollen and bruised. 

“I know-”

“No you don’t. You have no fucking clue what you did. You single-handedly just turned four months of me trying to not want to fucking kill myself every single day on its head because you didn’t give me a chance to tell you why I said no.”

“I did what…?” Pierre asked, his voice quiet with regret. 

“I’m in therapy, for something that happened before you came to school. Have been for the last four and a bit months. And I was finally getting to a point where I was really making progress, and then you came into my life. And we all thought you’d help, but you didn’t. You did for a while, and then you listened to the gossip.”

“I didn’t mean it the way it came out-”

“What, the bit where you called me fucked up?” Pierre flinched at the repeated phrase, “Do you want to know why people call me ‘fucked up’? Because I let a kid batter me for three months so that my brother, my twin brother, could have a normal life. And do you want to know the best bit? He didn’t stop with just assaulting me physically and verbally. Decided to touch me up, to use that reputation I’ve got for being a _whore_ , a _slut_ , whatever you want to call me, to say that I’m easy. He put his hand down my trousers without my consent and…”

Charles bit his lip as tears sprang to his eyes.

God it was harder talking about this than he’d anticipated. 

“And I don’t know what else he would’ve done, but I know he liked me being scared. And he liked having that power over me, and I just stood there and let him give me some crude version of a hand job because I was terrified that no one would believe me when I said I didn’t want him to do it.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t give me your fucking apology,” Charles spat, “But I can’t move on from that. I can’t move on from him spending three months punching me, and slapping me, and standing on me to the point that I think that he’s going to snap my bones, and remembering what it’s like to have someone touch you without your consent. I had a massive panic attack at school about a month or so after it all came out, because news travels around our school, you’d know that. And people listen to it.”

“I didn’t-”

“And when my friends saw me having a panic attack and my brother and his boyfriend are having to hold my hands and my head so that I don’t rip at my skin and smash my head into a wall to try and get his fucking voice out of my head, do you want to know what they did? They moved on. They carried on walking. They didn’t care. Because people don’t care about me.”

“I care.”

Charles looked at him, saw the honesty and the regret in Pierre’s eyes. 

“Mick told me I’m unlovable, that I was a spare part, the one no-one cared about. That I was never going to find someone who cared about me because what was the point? I’m just a slut. I used to sleep around, I’m not going to deny that. But you didn’t know shit about me, and all you knew was that I’d had sex, and you went ‘oh, not my kind of boy then’. So what? Do you want some virginal sweet little boy who won’t let you spread his legs until marriage? Yeah? Cool. I don’t care.”

“I don’t want that,” Pierre protested. 

“Not nice when people make assumptions about you based on very little information, is it?” Charles sat back, clutching at Tommy’s fin to calm his shaking hands and racing heart. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day wishing you were dead?”

Pierre shook his head.

“Good, it’s not nice. And that’s what I have to deal with because of what he did. He started slapping me around because I told him to leave my brother alone. And he told me, that if he was going to do that, he needed someone to take Max’s place. You don’t have siblings, Pierre, you don’t know what it’s like. But Max is my everything, and I’ll do anything to protect him. And I did, with Mick. Sacrificed a hell of a lot to protect him. Made myself get PTSD, gave myself a fear of people touching me, chronic nightmares. I already had this fear of not being enough, now I don’t feel worthy of living. And it’s because of him. And you don’t get that.”

Charles stopped to take a drink from his water bottle, clutching it between his palms, the rim smacking against his lip with every shaky lift. 

“When I met you, I liked you. And a lot of it was because you didn’t know about Mick, and about me. You didn’t know what I’d been through, what I was still going through. These last few days have been like hell. I have abandonment issues because of things that happened in my past, things you don’t need to know. But what I went through with you, it was completely different. It’s like nothing I’d experienced before. I went from this pure happiness, to wanting to be dead. And I don’t get it. I really don’t. But I thought you’d make it better, and you made it worse.”

“What can I do to apologise?” Pierre whispered, staring intently at Charles. 

“I don’t think you can,” Charles admitted, “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. _You_ fucked up when you called _me_ fucked up. When you slut-shamed me, and when you said you understand why people don’t trust me. People don’t trust me because I don’t trust them anymore. And frankly I don’t care anymore. I went from being the most popular boy in school to the school freak. And I don’t care. Because I just want to be able to fucking live and not feel guilty for it. To not feel guilty for breathing the air that everyone else deserves. I said no I didn’t want to go on a date because all I’m used to now is not being good enough, and I thought you’d give me chance to tell you that and you’d give me chance to be enough one day, but you really didn’t. You completely shut me down. And you didn’t give me chance. I came home and had a fucking panic attack and nightmares because of the pure fear I felt of going on a date. And then you had the fucking audacity to call me fucked me.”

“What I did,” Pierre interrupted, “Is inexcusable. When Charlotte slapped me, I already wanted to apologise. I wanted to give you a little bit of time because I knew I’d messed up. I had no idea of your past, I’d rumours that things had happened and you had this history with another lad, but I just assumed it was you fighting you fighting over a girl or something. The people that told me you were fucked up meant that you had a history and things weren’t easy, but I didn’t see that. I didn’t understand it because I didn’t make an effort to. And I’m sorry for that. I never intended to cause you to have panic attacks or nightmares, and I realise what I did was absolutely shit awful, and I feel so much fucking regret for not letting you talk. I knew you wanted to say something but I was scared you were going to let me down again. And I just panicked and repeated what I’d been told. I wish I could do something to make things better, but I know I can’t.”

“It’s not just that you called me fucked up, it’s the fact that you listened to the rumours and never once asked me. Everyone just assumes shit about me now, and no one ever asks me to tell the truth, because no one cares. The rumours are fun for everyone else because they sound sexy and mysterious and dangerous. But they’re not. They’re my reality. And you made me feel like shit for trying to be a good brother.”

“I know it’s hard-”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know what it’s like growing up in my fucking world. You don’t know how hard it is growing up in the shadow of Max Räikkönen-Vettel, the child fucking genius. You don’t understand how hard it is sometimes to just wish everything would go away and you could have a normal life where you’re not related to anyone and you can just be free. You don’t get it that there were endless days growing up before our dads got us that I was sick to the bone with anxiety and fear for my brother, screaming and screaming until I was throwing up blood for my brother to come back. I was four years old, Pierre. And I was terrified of losing him. All I wanted was to protect him from everything. And it’s so hard to do that when you’re in his shadow. But you do it anyway because you have to.”

“I get that, I get being stuck in someone’s shadow-”

“No, you don’t get it, Pierre. Not like this. You don’t understand that there were days growing up when I was _petrified_ for Max’s life. When you’re fifteen and you walk into your brother’s room and he’s not there, even though it’s 2, nearly 3am, and you look to his desk and you find a fucking suicide note. And your heart stops because you think ‘shit what if I’m too late’ and you scream for your parents because you have no idea what else to do. We were fucking kids and he wanted to be dead,” Charles’ voice caught as he regaled that story to Pierre. 

No one else knew it. He wondered if Daniel even knew. He knew no one at school did. Max had been smart when he did it and did it just before the Christmas holidays, so when he had a couple of days off at the end of term people thought he was sick. And he had been sick. Just not physically.

He could see Pierre going to cut him off, to offer words of apology for what had happened and to offer sympathy, but Charles didn’t want it. He was fine now. It had been nearly three years and sure there were days that he still worried about Max, but things were better. _He_ was better. 

Instead he continued before Pierre could stop him,

“Going out, having sex, and having people pay attention to me was the only way I could stop my brain from constantly thinking about Max. When you’re fifteen and someone offers you fifty quid for you to get on your knees and suck them off, you do it not for the money, but because someone is paying attention to you. And when the rumours go around school that you’re just this little whore, most people would be scared or mad or upset. I didn’t care. Because finally, _finally_ I was doing something that people couldn’t compare to Max. I was the one that people wanted. And I loved it. I loved feeling like I was important. It was never about liking sex or popularity or anything, it was about feeling important, and validated. Do you know how many people I slept with that were virgins? Because I don’t. I know it was a ton of people. Because that’s what people did. They used me to get the experience so that when they slept with someone they actually cared about, they felt more prepared. I was a tool for people to use and I let them. Because I was terrified of not being enough one day. 

“When everything happened with Mick, I didn’t need to do that. I could’ve let it happen to Max and Dan would’ve found out pretty quickly, he notices everything about my brother. And he’d have told my parents. I knew that. I always knew that. But it was never about my parents protecting me over him. When Mick hit me, I felt something. When I’d see those bruises on my skin that would sit there for weeks sometimes, I never took pain killers. Because _I felt something_. 

“The only person I ever had a crush on in my life very politely without even knowing turned me down. And my heart _broke_. I’ve never done relationships and dating because no one wanted to get close to me. And I get it. Like you said, people don’t have a reason to trust me.”

“Charles-”

“But I can look you dead in eye, and swear that every person I slept with was with consent and sobriety. I don’t know who every fucking person in our school is dating. There is 300-odd people in our school. How am I meant to know who was in relationships and who wasn’t? Why am I the bad guy for having sex, when it’s them that made the conscious decision to sleep with me when they know they already have someone? I’m not. I didn’t wake up one day saying ‘hey let’s see how many relationships I can split up before I even turn 18’. I just had sex because it was fun. And I liked it. But I’m over that. I’m tired of using my body to get people to notice me. And I thought you were different. I thought you’d give me chance to explain that I don’t do that shit anymore. I haven’t for a long time. Nine and a half months, if you want the specifics.”

“I’m sorry-” 

“And I thought you’d be different because I thought you’d give me chance to explain that,” Charles barrelled on, not stopping for Pierre to say anything, “I thought you’d give me a chance to say ‘hey listen, this really shitty thing happened to me and I am terrified of letting people close. But I’m willing to try if you just let me go slow’. Because when you smile at me, it’s like everything is okay. Like everything I went through doesn’t matter because I’ve got this boy in front of me that doesn’t know anything and he’s seeing _me_ , not the fucked up version that everyone else knows.”

Charles looked up and saw the tear fall from Pierre’s eyes. 

Good. So it should. 

Finally he was understanding what Charles was. 

“And then you took that trust from me. And you stomped on it, and screwed it over. I gave you my heart without even knowing, and you burned it. I don’t want to see you, for a while. I need time to forget you exist and to get over this. I’m not saying I want to cut off everything with you and never even look at you in the corridors anymore. I know you are friends with George, and I don’t want you to lose that. I know what it’s like to be alone. It sucks. But I just, I can’t think about being friends with you right now.” 

“Can we start over?” Pierre asked, tears racing down his cheeks.

“Maybe,” Charles shrugged, “But I think right now, you need to go.”

“Charles-”

“Come on, Pierre,” Dan interrupted, and Charles turned to see him stood emotionlessly in the door frame, “Time to leave.”

Pierre stood up without a word, following the strict instructions and walked away. 

Charles watched through the window, clutching Tommy between his fingers and pressing him to the underside of his jaw. 

Pierre turned to look, almost as though he could feel Charles’ eyes on him. His gaze flickered down to Tommy, an indescribable emotion flashing across his face, before looking back up at Charles. He wiped at his eyes and held his hand up to briefly wave ‘goodbye’.

Charles did the same, more a display of his hand than a real wave. 

“You did so well,” Dan whispered, “Can I put my arm around you?”

Charles nodded, falling into Dan’s front and squeezing his eyes shut as Dan wrapped his arms around Charles’ shoulders. He finally released his breath, finally was able to feel like everything was done with. He didn’t even feel like crying. It’s like it was all over suddenly. 

The wave of goodbye.

That was the wave of closure.

It was time to move on from this.

It was time to start rebuilding himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this optimistic?? Or just painful?? Tell me in the comments down below lmao
> 
> The song Charles sings is Soul of a Man from the musical ‘Kinky Boots’. Yes it’s a real movie/musical/story about making shoes for drag queens and the main character really is called Charlie. 
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to shout at me for your hearts breaking


	6. Trying My Best - Mid August 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 6 Content Warnings  
>  \- Mentions of underage drinking and sex  
> \- Implied drug abuse  
> \- Mentioned suicidal thoughts / the writing of a suicide note (not explicitly discussed)  
> \- Disordered eating**
> 
> Things are starting to look up?? Hopefully?? I feel like none of you can trust me anymore lmao
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that this used to be 10 chapters and it's now ? and that's because I'm an indecisive little shit who realised that they need more development and doesn't want to keep doing 15k chapters so it's now an undetermined length lmao
> 
> pure chaos
> 
> hope you enjoy it

**\-- Monday 20th July 2020 --**

Pierre   
  
I’m really sorry about what I said   
  
I keep thinking it over   
  
I should’ve let you talk from the beginning   
  


**\-- Friday 24th July 2020 --**

Pierre   
  
I know I’m the last person you want to speak to   
  
But I want you to know that I spoke to Charlotte recently and she rinsed me out for what I did to you   
  
It doesn’t make it ok but I know what I did was bad. The fucking regret for what I said to you is immense and I hate that I called you fucked up.   
  
If it’s ok I’d like to meet with you and talk about things one day   
  
When you are ready and if you want to of course. I really understand if you never want to see me again. What I did was shit and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make you feel sorry for me   
  
I just would like to be able to talk to you and maybe explain my own behaviour too. But if that’s not something you are comfortable with I understand   
  


**\-- Sunday 9th August 2020 --**

Pierre   
  
You sounded happy on playstation tonight   
  
I hope things are better for you lately   
  
I’m sorry again for what I did to you   
  
I’m sorry if it was weird me being on ps4 as well   
  
it was fine   
  
I’m so fucking sorry Charles   
  


**\-- Wednesday 12th August 2020 --**

“So, what do you want to talk about today?” Ada asked nearly 15 minutes into their session together as Charles curled sideways on the chair he always sat in. 

It was directly across from the windows, Ada’s back to them, so that Charles could look out as he talked, could see the skyline of London surrounding them and the reminder that no matter what, the world was still spinning. 

He wasn’t alone. 

“It’s been a month since I spoke to Pierre today,” he nodded, “And I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Which bit?”

“The look on his face. I’ve told a lot of people about Mick, and I’ve told a lot of people about how hard it is sometimes to find the will to wake up in the morning. But telling him, I can’t get the look he gave me out of my head.”

“What was different about him?”

Charles sighed and slumped further in the chair until he was laying with his legs and head hanging off opposite sides. 

“I know he was regretful for what he said, he’s sent me a few messages to say sorry and we ended up playing on a group party on playstation about a week ago and it was _okay_. But it was that look in his eyes, you know, when I told him what Mick had done? Maybe it’s wishful thinking but, it’s almost like he’d experienced something like it before, I guess. I don’t mean like what I went through with Mick, but more as though someone important to him had had stuff happen, you know?”

“Do you know anything about him?”

Charles shook his head. 

“He’s really secretive. Or rather, I never gave him chance to talk I guess. He never seemed to want to talk about families and stuff and the one time I asked him about it, he was really quick to shut down the conversation. I said something about my brothers or something, think we was talking about me and Max, and I asked him like ‘oh do you have any brothers or sisters?’, and he really blandly and quickly went ‘no it’s just me and my dad’. And, I don’t mean this to sound privileged or anything, but I’m used to people having nice stuff, expensive watches, the newest iPhone, new pair of trainers for every day of the week, we go to fucking private school, for fucks sake. My Dads spend nearly 60 grand to send me and my brothers there every year, and we can still get all that extra stuff. And I don’t think Pierre does.”

“But why do you think that’s got anything to do with the way he responded to you?”

“I don’t think he feels like he fits in. I think he sees himself as the outsider. I was talking to Lewis about this kinda stuff, feeling like an outsider, and Lewis was talking about how when we were kids, we were the weird ones in school because we had a funny accent and we spoke English weird, and me and Max were clingy to each other for a while, and then I became ‘normal’ but Max still carried that stigma of being _weird_ because he wasn’t good at making friends and could do his fucking eight times tables by the time he was seven when everyone else was still struggling to do the three times tables. People used to want to tell us everything and we used to do whatever we could because we wanted to fit in. What if that’s why he did it? What if… what if he just wanted to feel normal?”

“It doesn’t excuse what he said to you though, Charles,” Ada pointed out.

“I know, I know, I do genuinely know that. But I also know what it’s like being the kid who comes from another country and will do anything in their power to make friends.”

“You never made someone feel like shit for something out of their control.”

“But I don’t think he meant it like that. When we talked, he was going on about how he never really dug into what people were saying, he just let them tell him I had a history and I was bit fucked up. People have always called me fucked up because I sleep around, but it was different with him.”

“Would you still date him?” Ada asked pointedly and Charles actually sat up, planting his feet on the floor and tying his hands together as though he was going to pray. 

“I don’t know,” he honestly admitted, “I really don’t.”

“I think you want to, don’t you?”

“I can’t get him being nice out of my head. Like I know he did something really fucking shit to me, and I know he’s apologised for it and that I'm still not entirely cool with that. But I still remember the laughing on PlayStation, hanging at school and talking about art and photography, and him texting me in the mornings to say good morning and at night to wish me sweet dreams. I never had sweet dreams because of the nightmares but,” Charles voice cracked as a tear escaped, “He made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

“I think you need to have another talk with him. Establish some boundaries that allow you to understand what it is that you want from this, do you want to be friends? Do you want to severe a connection between you? Do you eventually want to be reaching a stage in which you can think about dating him?”

“I’m scared to hold people’s hand, Ada, what if it goes wrong?”

“That’s why you need to talk to him. You need to establish what you are comfortable with. And the whole not being comfortable holding people’s hands, build up to it. A high five is an excellent start.”

Charles smiled and nodded, wiping at his face with his t-shirt. 

“Now, the nightmares. How bad have they been?”

Charles pulled out his phone and looked on his calendar, seeing the little purple dots on 9 of the last 14 days. 

“I’ve had nine since I was last here. And they’re all kind of the same one again. They’re all being stuck in a black cage and being thrown around, and I can hear Max screaming and then there’s a gun in my face.”

“Who’s the person holding the gun?”

“It was my Dad at one point,” Charles frowned, “But mostly Mick, sometimes it’s this woman, and she’s got long dark hair but big blue eyes. And when she smiles, just before she pulls the trigger, you can see that her teeth are all jacked up.”

“Do you think it’s-”

“I think so. She kinda looks like him.”

“And the one where it was your Dad, Sebastian I assume?”

Charles nodded shortly and Ada stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“That one hurt a lot, because he spoke to me. They don’t normally. Sometimes Mick laughs or the woman calls us babies, but they never talk. They just say like one word and then BANG I wake up screaming. But my Dad, I was hearing shit he said to me like a year ago. Back before Mick even happened. Telling me how maybe I’d start making an effort, stop fucking around and sleeping with anyone with a pulse and drinking so much I’m passing out on the doorstep. Only in the dream, he replaces drinking with shooting up.”

“Do you speak to your Dad about the nightmares?”

“Sometimes. I spoke to him about like, if he’s proud of me and I showed him some of my art that I’ve done lately. I did this one the other day and it wasn’t really _art_ but it was like this drawing of my head and it was exploding, and every bit of brain matter was all the shit that was stuck in my head. And I told him about how I was worried about spiraling and becoming like _her_ but Dad said he wouldn’t let me.”

“What did Seb say about the drawing?”

“He hugged me really tight and I started crying and then he started crying, and then Dan turned up and he was like ‘why we crying?’, and I told him and showed him the drawing, and then he started crying and hugged us too, and then Max turned up and he just rolled his eyes and went to get isä. And Dad kept telling me that he was really proud of me and he thought the drawing was good but painful.”

“Why did you do it as your head exploding?”

“Because that’s what it felt like. I did it about a week ago, and Max was at Dan’s and Valtteri was at Lewis’, and I’d been on the phone to Charlotte and Alex until like 1am, and I was so tired. And yet the second I got off the phone, I couldn’t stop thinking about the suicide note I’d started writing before I spoke to Pierre. And I hated myself because I don’t want to do that. Yeah, my fucking head tells me that I do want to die, but I’m trying so hard to not let the negative thoughts keep ruling things and tell me that I do. I went up to Dad and Isä and told them that I wasn’t doing good, and I didn’t want to be alone, and Dad pulled me onto the bed and I sat drawing whilst they were sleeping. Dad had his arm on me the entire time and I just drew all night because closing my eyes wasn’t a good idea.”

“Did it help, doing the drawing?”

“Definitely. It was like this explosion meant that it all left, you know? And I know it hasn’t left because it is still there, and I still wake up some days thinking ‘fuck I want to be fucking dead’ but I’m just trying to keep chucking them out of my head.”

“Is it helping putting things into an art form and writing them down?”

“Art for sure, the writing still isn’t… still isn’t good. I just can’t write shit and it makes me feel worse about things, but putting it into art, I think because it takes me a long time, it makes me slow down, you know?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. How about next session, bring your sketchbook or your iPad, and we can have a look at some of the art, yeah?”

Charles nodded and stretched on the chair, his shirt riding up slightly and Ada frowned. 

“Have you lost weight?”

Charles looked down and then looked up, looking back and forth whilst frowning to think and bit his lip. 

“I try not to think about it, but I dunno. I noticed it a few weeks ago. I still eat dinner every day, just forget to eat at other times.”

“Seb or Kimi picking you up?”

“Seb.”

“We’ll have a quick word with Dad about just watching what you’re eating again when we finish up, okay?”

Charles nodded as they started to have a more generalised conversation about Charles and how he was doing. Some days Charles ended up talking more, Ada just prompting him with questions to help him get whatever it was out of his head, and today was one of those days. 

The last twenty minutes of the session passed with talking about the negative thoughts and how Charles was trying to not let the suicidal thoughts in as much. Ada asked a few questions about Max and Dan, and Charles told her about accidentally letting Dan know about the one thing Max tried to pretend never happened. 

“Do you feel guilty for that?”

“Yeah... I mean, they’ve talked and I spoke to Dan a couple of days ago about it too, and they’re both fine. Dan’s quite sad about it but,” Charles shrugged half-heartedly, “You would be if you’d just found out that your boyfriend had panicked and tried to kill himself, wouldn’t you?” 

“But how do you feel?”

“I still feel kind of numb about it. It’s so weird because we all know it happened but it really is like nothing happened. Everyone just almost seems to forget it was a thing, you know? And telling Pierre, I glossed over it so easily because it doesn’t seem real. And, sure, I feel bad for forcing Max to have to tell Dan, but Max is fine with it. He had a, er, what’s it called, online phone call thing-”

“Online consultation?”

“That’s it. He Skyped his therapist about a week ago to talk about it because he’s been out of therapy for about a year now I think, but every now and again he gets in touch with his therapist to talk to him, touch base, that kinda thing. And after talking to Dan, he just needed someone else I guess. But he’s taking it really well. Obviously, his medication helps with all of that, and he’s trying to talk to his doctor about having the dose lowered, that’s what he mentioned to Dad anyway. So yeah, I think he’s alright, which makes it easier for me, you know?”

Charles was waving his hands around uselessly but Ada was smiling fondly at him.

“And your relationship with each other, how’s that going?”

“Good. We’re both trying to make the effort to talk more. We’re really good at sitting in the same room and not saying anything, but the last month or so, it’s definitely been better. We still do just co-exist a lot, watching movies or play games or whatever, but we talk too. And that’s good.”

“And Valtteri?”

“All loved up with Lewis and refusing to show it in front of his family. But he’s been doing a lot of uni shopping lately so he’s not been around too much. Him and Lewis are in Cambridge for the next few days as well, because they had to go and get Lewis measured for his black gown thingy that he’s got to wear at dinners. So they’re probably just gonna have sex now that me and Max aren’t around to interrupt them.”

Ada chuckled at the bright grin on Charles’ face at his ability to forever interrupt his family when they were trying to have time alone with their respective partners.

“Right, is there anything else you want to talk about before we wrap this up?” Ada asked, closing her notebook and putting it on the table beside her.

“I’ll be on holiday in a couple of weeks when we should have our next appointment, so can we do it for like as I come back on the Sunday, we do it for the following Wednesday? It’s the first Wednesday in September.”

Ada had a look in her calendar and nodded, penciling Charles in for his normal time.

“Going anywhere nice?”

“No idea,” Charles shrugged, “Dad told us and I forgot so I was just told to pack for somewhere warm.”

“Sounds perfect,” Ada laughed, “Well, make sure you take lots of photos so I can live vicariously through you and be eternally jealous that you’re sunning yourself on a beach somewhere whilst I’m sat here writing a research paper.”

“I’ll bring you back a grain of sand.”

“Oh, you’re too kind Charles, a single grain of sand.”

Charles grinned angelically and Ada simply shook her head at him.

“Is there anything else before we go and talk to Dad?”

Charles shook his head and pushed himself off his chair. 

“Right, let’s go talk to Dad,” she smiled, holding her arm out for Charles to go first. 

The talk with Sebastian was quick but he nodded, taking in everything Ada told him and promised to keep an eye on things. 

It wasn’t that Charles was trying to not eat, he just genuinely forgot. Sometimes he got so into his art or sewing or playing a game with Alex and Charlotte, that he genuinely did not notice the hunger pangs in his stomach until he sat down for his dinner in the evening. 

But he would change that. 

He would.

He was tired of letting other factors control him.

He wanted to take charge.

**\---- Saturday 15th August 2020 ----**

Therapy always took a lot out of Charles, and normally the first day after his session he spent most of his day curled up in bed, not wanting to be awake or to deal with the outside world. 

Except this time, it didn’t just last that one day. 

Why did everything have to be so hard?

He was fucking trying.

Why wasn’t it enough?

He’d smiled a lot lately, laughed more. 

And yet for some reason the fucking darkness smacked him extra hard today. 

Gradually he’d gotten worse and the idea of getting out of bed made him want to cry.

Max had come in at some point, dropped his water bottle on the side and lay with him for a bit, quietly playing on his Switch as Charles slept with his head pressed against Max’s stomach. 

Eventually, Charles just wanted to be alone again. 

“Lunch kiddo,” Sebastian murmured as he came into Charles’ room, running his fingers over Charles’ cheeks as he woke up, smashing Tommy the Penguin into his face, “You going to come and sit downstairs and eat with us?”

Charles shook his head and curled deeper into the blanket even though he knew that whilst it was phrased as a question, it really wasn't one.

“It’s not really a choice, Charles. Come on, let’s go eat downstairs.”

Charles shook his head again and pulled the blanket over his head. 

“Fine, we’ll just do it like this instead,” Sebastian sighed, grabbing Charles under his arms through the blanket and picking him up. 

Charles had no choice but to wrap his legs around his Dad’s waist and hold onto him as he walked back out of Charles’ bedroom, the blanket falling loose and onto the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” Charles whispered, Tommy still held in one hand and his phone in the other where he’d wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s neck. 

“Don’t worry about it, Charles, we just want you to be alright, kiddo, okay?”

Charles nodded silently and sighed, flicking his phone onto his camera and taking a quick shot of his arms and legs wrapped around his Dad. 

A reminder than no matter what, his Dad cared about him.

He’d never leave him behind. 

“Dad, can I tell you something?” 

“Of course you can, you know that. What do you want to talk about?”

“I started writing a note.” Charles knew he didn’t need to specify what kind of note it was.

“Where?”

“On my phone.”

“Can I read it?”

Charles nodded against his shoulder and hugged his shoulders a bit tighter. 

“I don’t want to die, Dad,” Charles murmured and his Dad’s step faltered slightly, “I don’t.”

“I’m so fucking glad, Charlie, I’m so glad,” His Dad whispered, kissing Charles’ temple before walking through to the living room and depositing Charles on the sofa beside Dan and Max.

“Alright, Chaos?” Dan nudged and Charles shrugged but then nodded, dropping his head onto Dan’s shoulder.

“Things always have to get a bit shit, don’t they?” Charles murmured and Max simply kicked his kneecap in answer. 

“You’re doing good, Charles. It’s just a couple of bad days. Things will be alright soon.”

“I hate how fucking good I was doing and then it all goes to shit because boys are the fucking worst,” Charles muttered. 

“A-fucking-Men brother, preach it,” Max replied, sighing. 

Charles watched as Daniel slowly turned his head to look at his boyfriend, raising his hands and murmuring, 

“Bitch what the fuck.”

“Oh I’m sorry, maybe I’ll stop saying you’re the worst when you stop waking me up at 3am to ask me whether Italians speak Italian or Spanish,” Max said.

“Bruh, it was a legitimate question I had no idea.”

“Daniel, baby, darling, dear, love of my life, where do your Nonna e Nonno live?”

“Italy?” Daniel frowned and Charles giggled as he realised what his brother was going to say next.

“AND WHAT LANGUAGE DO THEY SPEAK YOU FUCKING MORON?”

“Oh yeah,” Daniel grinned, tugging Max forward and kissing him lightly to dispel the look of playful frustration on Max’s face. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Max sighed, cupping Dan’s jaw and tugging him in to kiss him again. 

Charles snapped a quick picture of Max’s hands resting against Dan’s jaw, Daniel’s fingers sliding into the gaps so their fingers were tied against his tanned skin. 

“Here you go, munchkin,” Sebastian murmured, handing over the plate of Mexican penne with avocado across to Charles along with his fork. 

“Thanks, Dad.” Charles placed the plate in his lap and quickly loaded his Instagram. Normally he posted a fair bit, especially since opening up to his family about his talent regarding fashion and art, using his Instagram to showcase his designs, creations, and what he wore. He’d grown a steady following over the last few months of taking it more seriously than just posting the aesthetic pictures of his outfits every once in a while, and when he saw a few comments on his latest post that he’d posted nearly three weeks ago asking where he’d gone, he felt a gentle smile build.

No matter how dark and alone he felt, there were people out there that liked him and wanted him to still be around. 

It was easier to be someone else with a mask of indifference when you were hidden by a screen and the only expectation was for you to provide content to be enjoyed by others. 

Charles posted the photo of Max and Dan’s hands on Dan’s jaw, captioning it with 

_The kind of love to believe in_

Sending it off into the stratosphere of the internet without any hesitation. His brother was used to being used as the model and muse for Charles’ work, and he knew that anytime he posted something that was about him and Daniel, whilst they were often the most liked posts he had, his heart warmed knowing that Max would save the photos and also repost them onto his own account, always crediting it as 'the talented shit of a brother'. Max was Charles’ #1 fan. It was nice to know someone was. 

As Charles stabbed a piece of penne, curled into the corner of the sofa and watching his brother and parents argue about something or other, most likely about the fact that Max and Dan were going to be separated for ten days when Max was dragged abroad, he saw his phone light up. 

Out of habit, Charles picked it up to look at the notifications that had just stacked up. 

**[charlesrv02]: lewishamilton liked your post**  
**[charlesrv02]: charlottesiine liked your post**  
**[charlesrv02]: valtteriraikkonenvettel liked your post**  
**[charlesrv02]: pierregasly liked your post**

Charles sighed as he saw Pierre had been the first one to like it. 

Part of him was flattered, the other part felt weird. 

[charlesrv02]: antogiovinazzi99 liked your post

That one definitely made him feel weird.

**[charlesrv02]: antogiovinazzi99**  
_I’m sorry_

That one made him feel even weirder.

“Charles? You alright kid?” 

Charles nodded slowly and looked up to see the concerned looks on his parents faces. 

“It was Antonio. He just messaged me to say sorry…” Charles told them, frowning back at his phone.

“Are you going to reply?”

“I… I dunno, yeah probably. Not for a while though,” Charles sighed, locking his phone and throwing it onto the sofa his parents were sat on, “Hide it.”

Sebastian slid the phone into his pocket and Charles threw his head back into the sofa. 

“Charles, eat your pasta baby,” Sebastian reminded him when he saw Charles getting distracted and Charles blindly stabbed at it, shoving it in his mouth without focusing on it. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Pierre,” he admitted. “I wanna talk to him again.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Max asked and Charles shook his head. 

“I think it’s a terrible idea. But I need to. The last time we talked, it was awful. It was just me talking and ranting. I need to talk to him again and set the record straight.”

“When do you want to talk to him?”

“Preferably in 42,069 years-” Daniel spluttered with laughter as Max rolled his eyes and his parents simply sighed, “But I guess in a few days. I want to talk to him before we go Spain.”

“Charles we’re not going Spain-”

“The location is irrelevant; my breakdowns happen everywhere. I will breakdown if we’re in Spain, The Canary Islands or even fuckin’ Guatamala. I don’t care. I am going to a hot country and that’s all I need.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Max rolled his eyes again but he caught the soft smile that Max exchanged with Daniel. 

They all started laughing and joking about the fact that Charles really did have no clue about geography, his parents questioning if they could even trust Charles to get on the right plane, and Max lamenting about how much he'd miss Daniel whilst he was gone. It was nice to hear them laugh. 

Maybe he could start to see a bit of sunlight in his tunnel of darkness. 

~

Pierre   
  
**Today** 15:07   
Hi   
  
Hi, how are you?   
  
Eh, not great. Can we talk?   
  
Of course!   
  
Come on ps4 tonight, just me and you? I can’t leave my house today bc I might have a breakdown but if I don’t we can play cod and talk?   
  
Sounds perfect   
  
If you don’t get a message by 7:30 text max and ask if im crying / sleeping / have just forgotten bc I have the memory of a newborn gold fish and there’s distinct chance I will have   
  
I will do   
  
I’m still so fucking sorry   
  
can you stop apologising   
  
Probably not   
  
We’ll talk about this tonight   
  


~ 

Pierre   
  
**Today** 19:29   
ready when you are   
  
calling you in a sec   
  


Charles slowly spun back and forth on his chair as he waited for Pierre to call him, the anxiety building in his stomach and causing a cold flush to cascade through his body.

Pierre   
  
**Today** 19:29   
ready when you are   
  
calling you in a sec   
  
**Today** 19:30   
actually just give me five minutes and then I’ll call you   


Charles threw his headset off and bolted out of his room, abandoning his phone and PlayStation that was flashing at him to pick what he wanted. 

Nearly flipping himself over the bannister in his rush to get down the stairs, Charles fell into the kitchen, grabbing onto the counter as his head started spinning and his heart raced dangerously fast.

“Woah, what’s up?” Valtteri asked, stabilising Charles with hands on his shoulders.

“I keep fucking everything up,” Charles told him, tears cascading down his cheeks, “I keep fucking rushing things and then fucking it all up.”

“What have you done?”

“I’m meant to be talking to Pierre.” Valtteri brushed the tears from Charles’ cheeks as he whispered, “But I’ve barely even spoke to Alex or Charlotte lately, I don’t know how to talk to people.”

“Yes you do, you always do. That’s you, Charles. You’re a talker. You put on your mask, you sit there, and you fake that confidence until you can make it, okay?”

“But what if it’s not enough?”

“Bro, if he doesn’t want to listen to you or give a shit about your feelings, just hang up. Seriously Charles. You’re not under obligation to him.”

“What if I mess up though?”

“If you’re scared of messing up, why the fuck are you even talking to him?”

“So we can set the record straight.”

“But why?”

“Because he gave me chance to talk and I need to give him chance too!”

“But why?”

“Because he’s a good person who made a bad decision and he deserves another chance!” Charles shouted.

“There you go,” Valtteri smiled, and Charles glared as he realised what his big brother had done. “You know you want to talk to him, and you need to let yourself look at the future and hope for good things. Sure, things might go to shit. But they might not either. Just fucking try, Charles. There’s no harm in trying.”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“I know you do,” Valtteri shrugged but cuddled Charles into him, kissing his messy hair, “You got your water?”

Charles shook his head and Valtteri shoved him into the counter, a warning for Charles to jump up and sit on it whilst he sorted out his drink. 

“I’m not a child,” Charles muttered, but he had to admit, the feeling of being cared for was nice. Watching Valtteri grab at his olive green bottle with the C on it and rinse it out to fill with clean, cold water, Charles pressed his head back into the cabinet behind him. 

“Are things okay with you and Lewis?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You just never talk about him. Like Dan is always here even though he moved back in with his mum like two months ago, and even when he’s not here, Max talks about him all the time. And it’s so normal to us now. Why don’t you talk about Lewis?”

“I don’t know kid, I just don’t.”

“You do… you do love him don’t you?”

“Yeah I guess. I don’t know, Charlie, we’ve only been together a few months, we’re not Max and Dan. No one has a relationship like them two, they’re made for each other even if Ricciardo is a fucking asshole.”

“Why don’t you like Dan?” Charles asked, cocking his head as Valtteri passed his water bottle to him. 

“Old history, shit he used to do and nearly did when he was younger. It’s hard to forget some things, you know?”

“But he’s alright. He loves Max.”

“Hm,” Valtteri murmured, turning on his heel and going back to whatever he was doing, “Go and talk to Pierre now. You know where I am if you need me.”

Charles frowned and jumped off the counter, staring at Valtteri’s back for a moment before wandering back off upstairs. 

Whatever was going on there was something that Charles didn’t want to get involved in. 

His phone was still lit up as he fell back onto his gaming chair and pulled his headset back on.

Pierre   
  
**Today** 19:37   
Sorry am back, can you call me now?   
  


Charles’ screen seemed to light up almost instantly, with the incoming discord call from Pierre. 

“Hi,” Charles muttered, swigging his drink to clear his throat when he realised he sounded funny. 

_“Are you okay?”_

“I nearly had a panic attack, so I just needed to think about what the fuck I’m doing,” Charles replied, grabbing his controller and flicking through the menu to find what he wanted to play with Pierre. 

_“Can I say sorry again?”_

“Can’t exactly stop you.”

_“Then I am. I am so sorry for calling you fucked up.”_

“Why did you say it then?”

_“Because that’s what everyone said. People at school always said ‘he’s fucked up because of stuff’ and ‘he’s fucked up because he breaks everyones relationships up’. And I know now that I should have listened to what people were actually saying rather than taking it at surface level, and since you told me everything I realised what it was people were saying. Especially the ‘fucked up because of stuff’.”_

“Can you stop saying ‘fucked up’ because that’s really not helping. I know you’re just repeating what people said but it just makes me feel shit.”

_“Sorry, yeah, I didn’t think about that. What’s better to say?”_

“I don’t know, anything but fucked up. I made mistakes, I upset people, I did things I shouldn’t have, but I’m not fucked up for that.”

_“You’re right. You’re brave.”_

“I hate when people call me brave,” Charles sighed, “I’m not brave.”

_“I know people that crumbled under much less than what you went through.”_ Pierre quietly admitted. 

“What’s your story, Pierre? Why do you never talk about your life?” Charles sighed, tired off all the secrecy and crypticness. 

_“It’s not a pretty story, no one wants to hear it.”_

“Neither is my life. And people don’t like to hear it either. But it makes you feel less alone to tell someone sometimes.”

 _“It’s not something I want to talk about over discord,”_ Pierre told him and Charles sat up in his chair a bit higher, _“I’d rather tell you to your face.”_

“We can.. I dunno, meet up some time? I guess? If you want someone to talk to.”

_“Why don’t you want to just cut everything off with me? Just pretend I don’t exist. What I did to you-“_

“People have done much worse to me for far less, and I’m tired of always being the one fighting. For once, I want to give someone a chance. You’re sorry, aren’t you?”

_“So fucking sorry, Charles.”_

“And did you learn anything from it?”

_“That you’re a good person. And I did something terrible by not looking at the bigger picture, by not focusing on the fact that shit happens and people twist things for drama.”_

“Have you heard the rumours about me and Max? Our background. Where our Dads got us from?”

_“Not really. I heard something about paying for you but I just thought that was in association with you and the whole people sometimes paying you for sex.”_

“Yeah it’s complicated. But that’s the thing. No one knows the truth because no one listens and they make assumptions. My dads didn’t _buy_ us. But people bought me. And so they twist the stories because they want drama. It’s why you have to be sure who you talk to about stuff. It’s not as easy as ‘hey that guy was nice I’ll talk to him’ because then you get shit like everyone round school finding out that for 50 quid you’ll get on your knees and give a guy a blowjob and maybe let him fuck you if he’s nice about it. People are _cunts_ , Pierre. Don’t be one of them.”

 _“I trust you,"_ Pierre whispered and Charles almost had to strain to hear his voice through his headset, _"You had the balls to tell me something so fucking difficult. And I’m not saying because you told me something shit, I feel like I’m under some kind of obligation to tell you some shit back, but you told me that I needed to hear your side of things, and I think it’s only fair you hear my side of things too.”_

Charles flicked his fingers around his controller, thinking for a minute before nodding.

_“Charles?”_

“Yeah, okay. I’m still mad at you, for what you said. And you calling me fucked up still hurts a lot. And I’m trying to be better, and I’m trying to not want to die. So if you start talking and I can’t listen, you can’t get mad. I need to look after myself first. But I’m open to listening, if you’re willing to take things with us.”

 _“It’d be nice to have someone to talk to,”_ Pierre agreed _“And what I might tell you might upset you. So if you’d rather I gave Max or Charlotte an idea first, I can do that. I just, I keep thinking about that look on your face. And I feel like such a dick. But I want to make sure you’re okay. Hearing you say that I’d undone your progress and how hard you’ve been trying to not let the dark thoughts take over, it reminded me off a lot of stuff and I need to get it off my chest.”_

“Tell Charlotte. If you think it’s going to be hard for me, just tell Charlotte a rough idea, and she’ll know if it’s too much for me, okay?”

_“I’ll text her later. Thank you, Charles, I know I don’t deserve this.”_

“People deserve second chances, Pierre. You gave me one. I want to give you one too.”

_“No matter what people say, Charles, you should know one thing.”_

“Hmm? What’s that?”

_“You’re a good person. And I’m sorry people don’t see that enough.”_

“I’m not.”

_“You’re a person who may have made some decisions other people don’t agree with, but you are one of the best people I’ve ever met, Charles. And I don’t know how you’re still fighting, but you are, and that’s amazing. Don’t sell yourself short.”_

Charles flushed and had never been more glad that he wasn’t in front of Pierre when a tear fell from his eyes. 

He’d heard people say that, heard people be proud of him for all the fighting he did and the way he kept trying to stay alive no matter what. Endless people had heard about the horrors of his mind and the darkness that fogged his life. 

And they had to care, because they were his brothers, and his fathers, and his future brother-in-laws, and his best friend and his therapist. 

No one else had to care.

But Pierre did. 

And he cared about the bad decisions he’d made. 

And he _was sorry_.

“I know.” Charles whispered, barely able to say it without his voice catching and he knew that Pierre would be able to tell he was crying. 

Charles let his character fly across the screen, shooting at targets and falling down ladders.

_“Hey, Charles?"_

“Yeah?”

_“I’m really happy you’re still alive.”_

Charles paused for a minute to think about it before quietly admitting, 

“Me too.”

They didn’t say much more after that, aside from instructions to each other on where to go and some slight arguing about who should go first and Charles failing to have enough currency to revive Pierre when he’d died because he’d spent it on his new outfit, but it was fine. 

It felt normal.

Charles liked feeling normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) They're talking :) we love progress :)
> 
> Also that comment about Dan waking Max up at 3am to ask if Italian's speak Italian or Spanish... yeah that might've been me with my best bro at some point lmao
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you wanna yeet at me for having Charles Raikkonen-Vettel have a civil conversation with NUMEROUS PEOPLE in which he wasn't the most dramatic boy around


	7. Unforgettable - Mid August 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a change of pace for this one, I'd almost say its _not angsty_ *shocked gasps of horror* I know. 
> 
> The next one however, that'll be angst lmao
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

**\---- Monday 17th August 2020 ----**

It had been a couple of days since he and Pierre had last spoken properly. 

They’d exchanged a couple of brief messages and Pierre had sent him a couple of memes about fashion students that made Charles smile. 

And he was _doing good_.

He’d not had a nightmare the last two nights, and the static in his head wasn’t as loud as it had been. It was still there, it hadn’t gone anywhere, but it was less noisy.  
Charles would take that. 

He’d take it all being a bit less noisy.

Whether that was why he made the decision to text Pierre, he had no idea, but the wait to hear back from him wasn’t as anxiety inducing as it would’ve been had it even been two days ago. 

The day that they _talked_.

Charles had gotten off COD with Pierre not long before his parents had come in to check on him before going up to bed themselves, smiling as Charles spun on his chair and laughed into his phone, talking quietly with Charlotte instead.

“It was good, Lottie, I think things could be better between us.”

_“Do you still fancy him?”_

“I dunno, Lots, maybe. I think so. But I don’t want to rush shit just because we had a bit of a laugh and talked now, you know? We still need to talk about shit and get some dark things out of the way before we can even think about something like dating. Oh, by the way, Pierre is going to text you and tell you roughly what his history is because he wants to talk to me but he’s scared about triggering me. Is that cool if he tells you and you tell him if I’m good to listen to it?”

_“Yeah babes, of course, you know it is. Do you want me to do anything else?”_

“Just let me know if there’s anything I need to be prepared for, I guess.”

“Charles?” his Dad had quietly interrupted, putting his hand on the back of Charles’ chair and shaking it slightly to alert him they were there.

“One sec, Lots,” Charles told her, pulling his phone away from his ear as he looked up at his Dad, “What’s up?”

“We’re going to bed, you doing alright?”

“Yeah, just talking to Charlotte about Pierre.”

“How did it go?”

“Good,” Charles confirmed, “We’re going to meet up at some point soon, I think before we go on holiday and have another talk about some other stuff, but yeah, it’s good. It was a good talk. I feel really good after it.”

“I’m proud of you kid,” Seb smiled, kissing Charles’ forehead, “Right, don’t stay up too late and get some sleep. Say hi to Charlotte for me, and I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Night Dad,” Charles murmured, “Night Isä.”

“Night kiddo,” Kimi nodded. 

Charles picked his phone back up after his Dads had left.“Am back bae,” Charles told her, only to be met with silence, “Charlotte?”

_“Holy shit, Charles…”_ came her reply.

“What? Charlotte, what’s wrong?”

_“Pierre just text me…”_

“Is it bad?”

_“You’ll be okay, but shit Charles, I wanna hug him. Still want to punch him in the face, but I want to hug him too. Poor kid.”_

“How bad is it?”

_“On a scale of 1-10? Probably about a 6, maybe a 7. Explains a few things to be honest, but I dunno, there’s definitely a lot more to it than he’s told me obviously. But you’ll be good. If you’re having a suicidal day, don’t talk about what happened, but if it’s just a normal ‘am depresso’ day, the sort where you’re like ‘life is meaningless until I get a bowl of carbonara in front of me’, you’ll be okay.”_

“Okay, thank you, Charlotte,” Charles sincerely told her, wishing beyond anything that he could reach through the phone and tug his best friend into his arms, hugging her tight and kissing her hair. “I love you.”

_“Love you more you dunce. Now, lemme tell you about this girl I met,” Charlotte told him, distracting him from the heavy shit with something fun._

Charles settled back in his chair, looking out the window as he listened to Charlotte, winding her up when she started fixating on the _‘way her hair falls, it’s so beautiful Charles, it’s like Rapunzel, honestly, it’s so beautiful, and she does the _most gorgeous_ make up, and she’s absolutely stunning, and then the next photo she didn’t have any make up on and I’m like you _how are you so attractive_ , Jesus Christ Charles she’s so beautiful’. _

“Fucking hell Char, you might as well get her in a white dress and get her down the alter now.”

_“Doesn’t a white wedding dress mean purity?”_

“I dunno, I think so.”

_“Yeah no can’t do that then, my brain is anything but pure when I’m thinking about her.”_

Charles laughed heartily as he listened more to Charlotte talking about this goddess of a woman, his eyes tracing the pattern in the sky as the stars started to make an appearance and he could play a crude game of dot-to-dot. 

“You’re the best, Charlotte,” Charles told her as they started to say their goodbyes for the night, neither of them capable of staying up too late tonight. 

_“I know I am, and that’s why you belong with me. We’ve got this, Charlie, we’re going to get you through this. You’ve already fought half the battle, you can keep going.”_

“Couldn’t do it without you m’lady.”

_“I know, I know, it’s all that beautiful female energy. Now go and get your beauty sleep you rag, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”_

“Yeah, you too, maybe you’ll finally be hot enough for Madame déesse to notice you.”

_“You absolute little shit,”_ Charlotte laughed.

“Love you too darlin’,” Charles grinned, “See you later.”

_“Byeeeeeee,”_ Charlotte sang and Charles ended the call. As he leant back in his chair, his phone thrown lazily onto his desk, he thought about everything. 

And he felt _okay_.

He felt like a weight had been lifted and it was a bit easier to breathe, as though the compression on his heart wasn’t as strong and falling asleep that night had been _easy_.

As it had the next night. 

He was still in disbelief that two days in a row he’d not had nightmares. 

Not that he anticipated that continuing. 

Anyway, back to what he’d been on about before. 

He’d text Pierre early that morning, when he’d woken up and was still lying in bed, his head quiet with the static today and wanting an excuse to leave the house. In the time between texting Pierre and waiting for him to reply, Charles had got up, eaten breakfast without any prompting from anyone (he even sent a photo to his Dad asking _Is this Instagram worthy?_ , to which his Dad said ‘yes!!!!!!!!!’ – his dad was a fan of exclamation marks if you couldn’t tell), showered and dressed without his brain having a meltdown. 

And he was _damn proud of himself_.

Pierre   
  
**Today** 9:04   
Are you free today?   
  
**Today** 11:07   
Hi, sorry it took so long to reply. I am free today   
  
Do you wanna meet up? Kinda feel like I need a change of scenery and we could have another talk if that’s okay   
  
Is it cool if we go exploring? I need to do some photography work and I don’t really know the best places to go? If you don’t want to that’s fine, but I just thought it might be the best way of keeping it in the open   
  
Yeah sounds good, where do you want to go?   
  
Somewhere with grass   
  
I know a lot of grass. Meet you in town at the coffee shop we went to that first time?   
  
Sounds good! What time?   
  
I’m literally ready to leave now so it’s up to u   
  
Meet you there for 11:45?   
  
Sounds good! See u then   
  
See you soon :)   
  


Charles clambered off the barstool at the breakfast bar he’d been sat on and headed up to Max’s room. Kimi and Seb were both at work, so he’d have to text them and tell them where he’d gone, as well as let Charlotte know what he was up to. But telling Max (and Dan) was the first step.

“Max? Are you awake?” Charles asked, knocking on Max’s door but not opening it. He’d been met with enough naked Daniel Ricciardo in his time that he didn’t need more of it now. 

“Hang on!” There was a thump, some laughter and then Max pulled the door open, no shirt on his body and a pair of shorts obviously hastily pulled on. Max’s hair was a mess and his eyes were glossy and Charles chose to ignore the red marks across his collar bones.  
“I’m going to meet Pierre in town, going to take him Jack’s Lake and that, just thought I’d let you know.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Going to talk to him about,” Charles waved his hand aimlessly before settling on, “Everything. We need to talk, and he’s got some photography to do and that, so I’m taking him to Jack’s and then if things get a bit awkward I can just throw myself in the lake.”

Max looked Charles up and down and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Charles, you’re dressed in about a grand’s worth of designer clothes, you won’t be going anywhere near that lake.”

Charles looked down at what he was wearing, and pulled his lip between his teeth. 

He hadn’t thought about that. 

“Should I change?”

“So you can throw yourself in a lake? No, you idiot.”

“No, I mean to meet Pierre.”

Charles didn’t want to look like he was bragging again, he really didn’t. He felt awkward every time it happened, and it’s not exactly like this was the plainest of outfits. 

A stark white t-shirt with Burberry written in bold black letters across the chest.

Black shorts with the iconic Burberry beige vintage check down the legs.

His sunglasses that were currently tucked into his bandana were even fucking Burberry. 

His fucking socks were Gucci and he hadn’t even thought about it. 

And he hadn’t even put his trainers on yet. 

At least they were fucking only converse. They were the cheapest things he was wearing and even they weren’t _that_ cheap to everyone.

Yes, even his boxers and bandana were more expensive than his £55 trainers. No he doesn’t take judgement for that. 

Not that he thought Pierre was some poor penniless orphan like Oliver Twist that couldn’t handle seeing someone wearing designer clothes. But he also didn’t want to look like some spoilt rich kid that you saw on TV crying because Daddy bought them a Bentley and not a Ferrari. 

(Which Charles would to be honest, he wants a Ferrari so bad but there’s the slight issue of ‘he’s not learnt to drive yet’ which is a bit of a bone of contention stopping him from convincing his parents that he _needed_ a Ferrari, but that’s beside the point) 

“Why would you need to change? You look fine, Charles,” Daniel asked, standing up and throwing his arm around Max’s neck as he leant against the doorframe. 

“Do I look like I’m showing off?” Charles asked in a quiet voice, looking down at his socks and feeling the weight of his iPhone pressing against his leg. 

“No, Chaos, you don’t,” Daniel reassured, tilting Charles’ face up, “You look like Charles. It’s what he knows you to be like. If he gets mad because you’re wearing the clothes _you like_ then he’s not the boy for you, okay?”

“It’s not a date,” Charles quickly told them, “It’s not. I don’t, I don’t, oh fuck do you think he thinks it’s a date?”

“No, Charles, he wouldn’t. I think he’s pretty aware that dates aren’t exactly a thing that you two are going to be doing anytime soon, if that makes sense,” Dan said. 

“And if he does, just be like ‘yo dude we don’t be doing that, we be looking after our mental health first and don’t be dating right now’,” Max joked and Charles laughed slightly. 

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Okay, I’m going to go and get my trainers on and head into town, I’ll be back later.”

“Just call us if you need us,” Max said, hugging Charles, “I know Dan’s here, but you come first. If you need us to come and pick you up, we will. Just be happy and take your time talking to him, yeah?”

“And if he says something that upsets you, you need to tell him you’re not comfortable talking about it,” Dan agreed, hugging the other side of Charles. 

“He’s told Charlotte what’s up and she says I’ll be fine, but yeah, I will,” Charles nodded, wiggling out of their grip, “I gotta go. I’m meeting him in town for 11:45 and I don’t want to be _too_ late.”

“Says the boy that was nearly late to his own birth,” Max muttered. 

“I’m sorry what?” Dan asked, looking between the twins with concern evident. 

“I nearly didn’t get extracted in time and I would’ve been technically born the day after Max. He was born at 11:55pm and they nearly didn’t pull me out in time but I was just in time and I was extracted at 11:58pm,” Charles nodded. 

“It’s really weird when you say extracted,” Max grimaced.

Charles shrugged. 

“It do be like that sometimes. Anyway, I’m gonna go get my trainers on, see you in a bizzle fellow kids,” Charles announced as he started walking down the stairs, throwing a peace sign over his shoulder as he went.

“You’re so fucking weird,” Max muttered, dragging Dan back into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. 

Charles sat on the bottom step of the stairs as he laced his trainers up, wrapping them around his ankle before tying them in a loop. 

He pulled his airpods out of his pocket and connected them to his phone before grabbing his backpack and fetching his water from the fridge, sliding his water bottle into his bag and unlocked the front door. 

“BYE!” Charles shouted up, loitering for a second and then walking away when Max was too busy either getting his dick sucked or sucking his boyfriend’s dick to say bye to Charles, but either way, Charles had a boy to go and meet and a conversation to go and have. 

~~

Charles was sat on one of the outdoor tables outside the coffee shop, his leg nervously bouncing as he took a sip of his _Chaotic Special_ that Jamie made him as he waited for Pierre. 

“You alright, Charles?” Jamie said, coming to sit beside Charles.

“Waiting for the boy that accidentally broke my heart and now we’re meeting up to talk about shit and I’m not freaking out but my brain is freaking out because we’re not freaking out and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had the caffeine,” Jamie pointed out. 

“I mean yeah probably not, but I don’t exactly have much self-control, Jamie.”

Jamie laughed softly, looking across at him fondly. 

“Are you going to be alright meeting with this guy?”

“I think so. He didn’t mean to break my heart, he just did something real shit without thinking about the implications, you know? And he didn’t know I was so messed up until I told him and we only really talked that one time in person when I told him I’m messed up and then talked on discord the other day about me being messed up and why it hurt him saying that.”

“You’re not messed up, kid, you had something shit happen, and you’re doing good.”

Charles nodded awkwardly and curled over his drink a bit as he thought about things. 

Jamie had become a pretty good friend to Charles over the last few months. After an initial argument regarding Charles and his ability to ‘omit his age’ sometimes, Charles had ended up becoming quite fond of the barista/bartender, and he’d become almost like another brother to him. 

“Apparently, he’s had shit happen in his past, and like don’t take this the wrong way because obviously I feel sorry for him and that if he has had some bad shit happen, but I’m scared it’s going to become like a pity party, and I’ll end up feeling bad for getting mad at him for being mean to me. Does that even make sense?”

“Sure it does, kid. You’re worried about being made to look like the bad guy for someone else’s behaviour, when you’ve been through some shit and there’s nothing excusable about what he did. But you gotta talk shit out to understand it.”

“I’m not good at talking to people.”

“You say that a lot, but you are. You’re very good at it. And you’re very good at listening too. Take your time, take it slow, and manage your temper. I know it’s going to be easy to fly off the rails at him, but you know better than anyone what happens when people make assumptions and don’t listen to the full story.”

Charles scoffed but nodded. Jamie was right. He really did. It had been the thing that got them into all this mess in the first place. 

“Hear him out, kid. And if you don’t like what he’s got to say, you leave. Self-care, innit.”

“Self-care innit,” Charles repeated, bumping fists with Jamie and standing up with his coffee as he saw Pierre approaching. 

“Hey,” Charles nervously said, offering Pierre his most awkward smile as he raised his hand in an awkward wave. 

“Hi,” Pierre replied, biting at his lip. 

“Do you..?” Charles pointed at the coffee shop and then at his own drink.

“Ah, no, I’m good thanks. Are you, um, ready?”  
Charles nodded and said his goodbyes to Jamie with the man whispering a quiet ‘take care of yourself, little one’ that was almost enough to make Charles cry. 

It didn’t. 

But it was nearly enough.

They walked in an amicable yet awkward silence for a little while, the only noise being the occasional rattle of something in one of their backpacks or Charles slurping at his drink. 

“So,” Pierre broke after they’d been walking for about five minutes, “How you been?”

“Not too bad,” Charles shrugged, “Better, even. Not good, but better. How have you been?”

“Good, good, yeah.”

“Good.”

Another awkward silence followed in which every now and again one would catch the other’s eye and they’d exchange a smile that was incredibly forced.  
“Where we going?”

“Oh, er, Jack’s Lake, it’s like another ten minutes until we get there.”

“Oh cool. Did you er, used to go there a lot?”

“Is this seriously what it’s going to be?” Charles asked, stopping in the middle of the street and staring blankly at Pierre. 

“What?”

“Awkward small talk and you asking me if I’ve been to a lake before that’s only like 20 minutes from my house. I’m not fucking fragile, I don’t need you to beat around the bush and pretend everything’s okay or not say absolutely anything in fear that I’m going to start crying. I’m fine. I wouldn’t have asked you to hang out if I wasn’t. Yes, we’ve fucked up. We both did,” Charles saw a mother glare at him as she covered her child’s ears and usher them away, typical Karen, “But this awkward silence shit isn’t what I signed up for when I asked if you want to hang out. I thought we’d actually talk like adults.”

Pierre looked down at his trainers for a moment before looking back up at Charles.

“I don’t know how to talk to you,” Pierre admitted, “I don’t know where to start.”

“I’ll help you out then. Apologise. One last time, and then we brush it under the rug. We don’t ignore what happened to me, but we don’t fixate on it. I’m not just a fucking statistic in the grand scheme of people that were assaulted and bullied and put into therapy because a boy was mean to them. I’m a person. Who had something shit happen to them. But I’m more than that. So please, I fucking beg of you, don’t treat me like I’m fine china. Treat me like a real person. Treat me how you’d want to be treated. Move on from my past and look at our future.”

“I am eternally more sorry than you will ever now,” Pierre told him, looking at Charles sincerely, “And believe me, I got my ass handed to me a number of times.”

“What did Antonio want?” Charles asked suddenly, changing the subject and causing Pierre to look at him confusedly. 

“What?”

“The week that I didn’t go to school for a few days. It was the day Charlotte slapped you, I was with Dan in the car and I saw you talking to Antonio. What did he want?”

“Oh…” Pierre murmured, “He had a go at me.”

“Why?”

Pierre seemed reluctant to admit the truth, but when he saw the way that Charles was staring at him and not backing down, he opened his mouth and said, 

“Because of what I did to you.”

“Antonio did?”  
“He said that he’d been watching you. He didn’t talk to you because he was… I dunno, scared, I think. Nervous. Angry at himself for what he didn’t do. And when he heard that people have been telling me that you were you know, that word, he asked what I did, and I said I’d messed with you and then he saw Charlotte hit me so he was asking me what that was about. I told him. I said that I’d messed up. And he had a go at me.”

“Antonio did? Antonio Giovinazzi? The Italian one who has the most gorgeous hair in existence?”

“Yeah,” Pierre laughed softly, “Him. He said that he failed you, and it wasn’t right that I did too.”

“Is that you why agreed to talk to me?”

“No. I didn’t know what had happened, he just said that a lot of things happened and that you get a lot of flak for it, and that I should’ve listened to you instead of going on the defence for my own heart without thinking about yours too. And when you told me you want to talk to me, I knew it was important. I knew I had to listen.”

“I’m glad you did,” Charles nodded, “I can’t believe Antonio talked to you though. We haven’t spoken in like,” Charles looked down at his fingers as he counted the distance from March through to August, “Probably five or six months. We only ever smile at each other.”

“People care about you; a lot more than I think you realise.”

“I’m starting to realise I’m not as alone as I think I am,” Charles admitted, “Can we start over?”

“Not completely. But we can try again,” Pierre compromised. 

“I can deal with that.” Charles wiped his sweaty hands on shorts and shakily lifted his hand up in a high-five gesture, remembering that Ada told him to start small.

_“A high five is an excellent start.”_

“I don’t touch people, but I can do a high five,” Charles told him. 

Pierre stepped closer and lifted his hand, letting their hands touch briefly as Charles said, 

“I’m Charles.”

“I’m Pierre.”

And the two boys smiled softly at each other. 

“I’m glad we can try again.”

“Me too,” Pierre agreed.

“Now come on, the ducks are on a tight schedule and I hate the little bastards, but they take good photos.”

“The ducks can take photos?” Pierre asked cheekily as he fell into step beside Charles.

“Oh fuck off you know what I meant,” Charles laughed. 

“Yeah the ducks are your fashion photographers I know your secrets. You secretly hoard them so that your Instagram always looks so good because you’ve got ducks taking the photos for you.”

“You’re such a knob,” Charles mock-glared, and as he watched Pierre’s cheeks scrunch up as he laughed, the little gap in his teeth became obvious again, Charles felt another wave of sanctity wash through him. 

Progress

Baby steps

He could laugh

He could smile

And it was enough

He was doing enough to make the progress he needed to smile more these days.

_“Worthless”_

“No I’m not,” Charles muttered without thinking, only focusing on getting Mick’s voice out of his head.

“What?”

Charles looked sharply across at Pierre and scraped his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands embarrassedly. 

“Sorry. Sometimes when I’m happy or whatever, all my brain can focus on is telling me I’m wrong, and it normally comes in the form of my brain repeating things that Mick used to say to me. And my therapist gets me to challenge the thoughts, that’s what I was doing. People are used to it so I just do it without thinking.”  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking about it. I won’t-”

“Nah it’s fine, you should probably be aware of it ‘cause I’ll probably do it a lot around you because it’s you that my brain gets stressed out around a lot. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad for that-”

“You’re trying to protect yourself, I get it. I’m glad you could tell me.”

Charles nodded awkwardly and their conversation died down. 

Whereas before the silence had been awkward, now it felt almost companionable. Charles liked this kind of quiet. The quiet that spoke a thousand words and yet nothing at all. When you fell into trust with someone enough that you could both be alone with your thoughts whilst also still enjoying the other’s company. 

“When we get to the place,” Pierre quietly asked, “I just want to check now, are you okay if you’re in some of the photos of the photos or would you rather not?”

“If you try and get me to pose with a duck I will punch you in the throat.”

“No posing with ducks I promise,” Pierre laughed. 

“Then yeah, it’s fine. Just make sure I look good, you feel me.”

“You always look good. That’s just you.”

Charles blushed a small amount and took a final sip of his drink before throwing it into the recycling bins near the Lake. 

“Was you drinking that thing that is just pure sugar and caffeine?”

“Yep,” Charles grinned, “So I’m probably going to be fucking wired now.”

Pierre laughed as Charles suddenly took off in a run, both of them holding their backpack straps tight so they could run without their bags banging into them too hard. 

Charles laughed as Pierre chased after him, attempting to catch up. 

It was nice feeling normal for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love Charles having a good day :D
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you wanna shout about Charles being a good egg with me


	8. Mind Is A Prison - Mid August 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of talking
> 
> like a lot of it
> 
> these boys deal with Some Stuff
> 
>  **CONTENT WARNINGS**  
>  \- Mentioned past Child Abuse

**\---- Monday 17th August 2020 ----**

As they walked through the reserve, Pierre pulled his camera out of his bag and placed it around his neck whilst Charles walked a little bit ahead. Every now and again, he’d turn to check on Pierre to make sure he wasn’t lagging too far behind with getting distracted by taking photos, and if he did, Charles simply waited.

He’d never been good at waiting.

He had a tendency to run full steam ahead at literally everything and hope for the best. 

And it had bit him in the ass more often than not.

Pierre was a prime example of that.

He’d tried to run before he could walk.

Tried to date before he was okay.

Tried to be okay when he wasn’t.

He realised that now. 

“Evil fucking bastards,” Charles muttered as a goose swam past him, its beady, evil little eyes staring into his soul.

“What’s your problem with geese?”

“They’re evil!”

“They’re feeding off your negative energy. The meaner you are to the geese, the meaner they’ll be to you.”

“Well they should be nicer to me. They stare into your soul and scream at you that they’re going to steal your special sandwich and bite your fingers and then chase you because you’re crying and then you end up with trauma related to a goose.”

Pierre stared at Charles for a moment, concerned confusion wiping across his face as he processed what Charles had told him before laughing slightly and saying, 

“I’m sorry?”

“Why do you sound more sorry about me being bit by a goose when I was five than you did when you apologised for calling me fucked up?”

“I guess, I don’t know, I think I was more in shock then,” Pierre shrugged, “Do you want me to say sorry again?”

“Hell fucking nah. Just wanted to wind you up,” Charles smirked, “I’m not good at dealing with shit and it often comes out in stupid jokes and I will probably make a lot of references to you calling me that because it’s the one way I can deal with it and it’s either that right now or it’s the dark commentary that everyone hates.”

They walked for a little while longer, not really saying anything until Charles sat down on a bench. 

“Is it hard? Being in your head all the time?”

“Yep,” Charles admitted without preamble as Pierre stood at the lake, taking photos of the greenery and the ducks, “I did really good for a while. I started therapy at the end of February, going a couple times a week at the start and then it started to be once a week, because I was doing great. Like actually great. I wasn’t really having nightmares anymore, the panic attacks weren’t really happening, and then all of a sudden at the start of May, I just tanked. I don’t know why I’m telling this, I’m sorry, you didn’t ask.”

“No, it’s okay, you can talk to me.”

Pierre was still up taking photos and without staring at Charles, it made it easier to talk to him. 

“No one really knows why, but I think things just started going a bit weird in my brain. Valtteri, Dan and Lewis were all starting to really get tied up with A-Levels, and Dan’s parents split up around that time as well. And I had a lot of coursework due in and all my mock exams, and I’d just overloaded. I was trying to do too much at once to keep myself busy so I wasn’t able to think about things properly. I was trying to help Max because he was stressing out and I just exploded, withdrew into myself and it all just backfired.”

“Why don’t you talk when things get bad?”

“I do now, I just didn’t at the time. I’m quite shit at a lot of things,” Charles laughed humourlessly. 

“You’re not shit, you just struggle with stuff, it’s normal.”

“You don’t go from a semi-normal way of living to screaming the house down that you want to die if you’re not a bit shit at things. It’s alright though, it’s getting better. Just a lot of talking to people and my parents not exactly trusting me. I mean, they do, they do trust me, but they have to be really careful with me.”

“Are you close with your Dads?”

“Didn’t used to be,” Charles admitted, “I used to fuck around a lot, scream at them all the time, hide stuff from them. I never really lied to them but I’d just strategically avoid telling them things. They’ve always been closer to Max because he’s had a lot of issues and difficulties over the years, and I felt like a bother because they had more important things to do, you know how it is. And then after everything came out about what had happened and the nightmares started and all the suicidal thoughts and my therapist told them not to leave me alone with sharp objects, it all changed. It’s better with them these days. I talk to them a lot, and we’re all more open about stuff. I hear a lot about Max’s sex-life, which isn’t fun, but I’d rather hear too much and have a good relationship with my brother than hear nothing, you know?”

“And you’ve got Valtteri as well?”

“Yeah, he’s _weird_. He’s six weeks older than me and Max, but the relationship we have is really different. Like Val is more, I dunno, focused, I guess? Max is a genius, like an actual recognised genius, but he knows how to have fun, especially with Dan. Valtteri focuses way more on school and stuff. He’s just so focused on what he’s wants after school and his hockey that he doesn’t focus on much else. He’s dating Lewis, you didn’t meet him,” Charles told him when Pierre looked over his shoulder at the unfamiliar name, “And he says he’s happy with him, and it’s seems alright. But he’s definitely the quietest out of all of us.”

“So which one are you then? If Valtteri is the quiet one, Max is the smart one, what are you?”

Charles thought about it for a moment and opened his mouth to say something except he was cut off by Pierre saying,

“And don’t say the fucked up or messed up one. What _are_ you when you take away all of that? Who is Charles?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Can I tell you what I think you are?”

“I guess.”

“The good one,” Pierre told him, turning around and looking at Charles in the eye. “I don’t know your brothers, not the way you do. And I don’t think they’re bad people at all. I’m not saying that. But I think your heart and your soul, they’re good. They’re pure. You’re the good one.”

“I think a lot of people would disagree with you there.”

“I don’t care. I’m past the point of caring what people think and want and tell me. I’m tired of letting other people dictate how I think about other people. Obviously there’s a lot of people that people are right about, but people like you, you get a bad rap for no reason. You made mistakes and you did things people don’t always agree with, but that’s not an excuse for people to just hate you.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad shit.”

“So has everyone. Some people do way worse than you and they get way less shit than you do. You did something amazing, and you should feel proud of yourself that you didn’t let that overtake everything. I know you said the darkness hits, but you’re fighting hard. And that’s admirable.”

Charles stared at Pierre, not quite sure what else to say. Pierre’s voice had cracked slightly when he’d mentioned about the darkness but Charles had watched as he started fiddling with the settings on his camera, clearly trying to draw the attention away from it. 

“You’ve seen some bad things, haven’t you?” Charles carefully asked. 

Pierre nodded shortly. 

“Life do be wild, hey?” Charles murmured. 

Pierre laughed slightly and nodded with a pained expression. 

“Yeah, it’s wild sometimes.”

Charles jumped off the bench and walked over to Pierre, standing beside him as they looked over the river. A duck swam past and Charles stared at it, narrowing his eyes as it started to swim closer to the bank than it did to the middle of the lake. 

“Evil,” Charles murmured.

“I’ll protect you from the evil duckies, Charlie,” Pierre told him and Charles chanced a look across at him. 

“Do you have someone to protect you?”

“My Papa,” Pierre confirmed with a soft smile on his face and Charles nodded. 

“I’m glad you’ve got someone.”

“How’s Charlotte?” Pierre asked carefully, almost as though he was unsure whether he was allowed. 

“You’re seriously asking me about the girl you thought I was dating?”

“No, I’m asking you about your best friend. The most important person in your life. If we’re going to start again, I want to know you. Before Mick, before I called you those words, before the nightmares and the trauma and the fear. I want to know the boy beneath the art. I want to know who made you _you_.”

Charles stared at him for a moment, waiting for the words to process and to understand what it was Pierre was wanting from him. It was beyond him trying to make up for shit, it was him _making an effort_.

They’d talked before, before he’d asked Charles on a date and it had gone disastrously wrong and Charles’ brain had spiralled out of control again. When the baby steps of progress that he’d made between the start of May when things got weird in his head to being stable again at the start of July when he’d met Pierre were still going well. When all Charles had to worry about was whether he was going to be okay if he spent time alone with Pierre or whether he was going to freak out and make an idiot of himself because his brain liked to do that.

And they’d done bad things, Charles knew that.

They’d both said bad things.

But they were _trying_.

And some people did deserve a second chance. 

Pierre being one of them.

“Charlotte’s good,” Charles said, “She’s met a girl and I’m going to meet her in a few days because she’s got an art exhibition and she didn’t exactly implicitly invite Charlotte but she kinda did, but she’s kinda terrified, so I’m going to go with her. Be her wingman, try and not flirt with the girl that I’m trying to get my girl with, and just hope for the best. She’s happy. She also said she wants to hug you. She wants to punch you in the face still, but she wants to hug you too.”

“I get that. She seems like a good person. She’s quite protective of you, isn’t she?”

“She dealt with a lot of the fall-out post-break down. When Antonio wouldn’t even look at me, and everyone was tiptoeing around me like I was some freak. I lost a lot of people, there was so many people that just wouldn’t even look at me because they acted like I was contagious and would fly off the handle at any moment or they just straight up didn’t trust or like me anymore. And when you feel like you’re not important, all that shit just rolls and rolls and rolls until you’re a no one and the only person that is there for you that isn’t your brother is the one girl that needs a brother in the way that you need a sister.”

“And you’re friends with George and that, aren’t you?”

“Erm, not really. They’re friends with Max. I get along with Alex, er, kind of. And George hates me, and Lando’s Lando, you know. But I ended up being with Max a lot towards the end of year 12, and he’s friends with them so I kind of end up inserting myself into their friendship group.”

“What’s the issue with you and George? He seems like a nice guy?”

“Remember I told you about my reputation?” Pierre nodded. “Well, when I was fifteen, I had a thing for Alex. I never told him because I’m shit at communicating, but we were at a party, and I was half way to drunk, and I got to kiss Alex and then suck him off. This was after the whole ‘people finding out I would sleep with anyone’, and George thought I was taking advantage of Alex because he had a thing for Alex too. Nothing more happened between me and Alex because he had a thing for George, but people hold grudges against me for literally everything, so it doesn’t bother me.”

“That sucks.”

“I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

“People have held a grudge against me since I was a little kid, Pierre. The kids in the group homes when ‘the freaky twins’ got the fancy posh dads with the fancy posh car and the fancy posh brother and all the money, people hated it. I was four years old, and people hated me. People hating me now because I slept with someone or sucked their dick? Yeah, that’s just standard behaviour for rich kids who go to Forests.”

“Have you always gone to Forests?”

“Yep. Since we moved to England. We’ve always attended private schools. Even when we lived in Holland and Germany and France and that, we went to international private schools, and then we settled in England and my Dads liked Forests because it’s not far from our house and they had the primary through to sixth-form education that was easier for us.”

“So you’ve never gone to a ‘normal’ school?”

Charles shook his head.

“My earliest memories are of my Dad standing us on a chair so we could see the mirror as he had to teach us how to tie a tie. Since we were seven, we’ve been wearing ties and blazers and jumpers. It wasn’t until sixth-form that we didn’t have to wear uniform anymore.”

“That’s so strange. We didn’t start élémentaire until we were six anyway and we never wore uniform.”

“I loved my uniform,” Charles grinned, pulling his phone out and looking through it, “Here, this is some art I did in year eleven for my GCSEs, the topic was ‘identity’ and I did my whole project on being a twin.”

Pierre dropped his camera to rest against his stomach as he gingerly took Charles phone into his hands, cradling it in his hands like it was the physical piece of art that Charles had created over a year ago now. 

“How old was you when you did this?” Pierre asked, zooming in on the photo and admiring every brush stroke and delicate line art that Charles had created.

“Sixteen,” Charles smiled. 

He stepped up closer beside Pierre and looked at the work. 

Charles really fucking adored the piece he’d created.

It showed two versions of him and Max. 

One part of it was the twins aged sixteen, stood beside each other in their school uniform. Max’s uniform was smart with his tie done neatly around his neck, the collar of his crisp white shirt folded to perfect points over the ribbons of the tie. The black blazer sat perfectly over Max’s shoulders. His hair was smartly gelled back and combed into place. An uncomfortable smile decorated Max’s face. 

Charles was a different story. In the piece, you could just see that Charles shirt was untucked, his top button undone and his tie shorter and looser around his neck, not the A4 length it should’ve been. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up around his elbows and his blazer was tossed carelessly over his shoulder, hooked around his pointer and middle fingers. His hair was spiky and messy around his head with his black bandana tied around his head, smirking dangerously at the person staring at him. 

In front of them, Charles had drawn himself and Max as little kids. Teenage Charles had his elbow resting on his tiny self’s shoulder, his fingers threaded through his hair whilst Max had his hands on his tiny self’s shoulders. The tiny twins looked scared, bruises across their eyes and jaws, tear tracks painted down their cheeks and a cut across Max’s eyebrow whilst Charles was bleeding from his nose. Tiny Max and Charles were clutching hands, bruises across their knuckles and wrists with tatted shirts wrapped around their bodies. 

He’d done the majority of the piece in black, white and grey, capturing the fear of themselves as children compared to the happiness of their teenage selves. The only colour on the piece was the brightness of the elder twins eyes alongside the blood, the bruising and the silver tear tracks painted on the baby twins faces.

“This is amazing,” Pierre told him, staring intently at the photo. 

“It took me ten hours. I picked up a pencil at 8:30am on the Wednesday, worked until 2:30 with a one hour break for lunch, and then had to do it all again on the Thursday. Ten hours of work just to do that piece.”

“How the fuck did you do that in ten hours?”

“I don’t know,” Charles admitted. “The piece means a lot to me and I just sat there in silence, obviously ‘cause it was an exam, and just drew and drew and painted and did line work. And the exam invigilator, the one that was there to make sure we weren’t cheating, she looked at my work and just mouthed at me ‘are you okay’ and that’s when you know you did something marginally uncomfortable.”

“How old are you in the baby photo?”

“In the actual photo that the trauma bits are taken from, we’re about three. It was from the photo that the police took of us that was in our file, but the actual drawing is us when we’re a bit older, about five-ish.”

“You’re really talented…” Pierre whispered, zooming in on the photo again and looking at the brushstrokes on the painting. “I can’t believe you did it in only ten hours.”

“Think I did two practices and one draft and then the final piece. It was a lot of work and if I think too hard about it, my hand still hurts.”

“Why did you pick to go into fashion and not art?”

Pierre handed Charles his phone back and they started walking again. 

“I love art, and it’s my favourite thing to do. It helps keep me sane and make sense of a lot of the shit in my head, but I don’t think I’d want to do it all the time, if that makes sense? With fashion I can move between things and work with different concepts a bit easier. And fashion also lets me do art at the same time.”

“That’s fair,” Pierre nodded, letting Charles go ahead of him, “Is it okay if I take photos of you too?”

“Yeah I told you earlier you could.”

“I know, I just wanted to check it was still okay.”

“Yeah you’re good.”

Dad   
  
**Today** 12:58   
How you doing?   
  
Good we been talking about me mostly bc am an attention whore but it’s going well   
  
And u know I love any opportunity I get to talk about myself  
  
Has he spoke about his history at all?   
  
I can confirm that French kids don’t wear uniforms   
  
So that’s a no   
  
It do be like this sometimes Pops   
  
am gonna ask him in a bit   
  
Remember if he says anything you’re not comfortable talking about that you need to cut the conversation. Don’t push yourself before you’re ready   
  
I know Dad I got this im a big boy   
  
You’ll always be my baby though  
  


Charles shook his head fondly and slid his phone into his pocket again, tying his fingers behind his head and looking up at the sky. 

There was something freeing about being lost in the trees, when the world around you died down and it was just you, some birds (and an evil goose), and some leaves that lacked that satisfying crunch they got in the autumn time. 

As the sun beamed down, it seemed as though it was fighting Charles to attack the ground under his feet, dressing him as the ethereal being that he definitely wasn’t. 

The King of a kingdom that was revolting. 

The King of a world in which people were scared of him. 

The King of a universe that no one wanted to live in and he was stuck fighting. 

He could see Pierre taking photos of him but he ignored it. 

Yes this was meant to be some time with Pierre, to get to know each other and to start afresh. 

But right now, he was stuck in a world in which he was alone. There was no dashing prince, no handsome knight, no mere commoner vying for him or his attention or world. It was just him, the trees and his mind. 

And actually, Charles didn’t mind it. 

Sometimes being stuck with his brain lead to events like a few weeks ago, when he wanted to scream and cry and throw up and sink to the floor in the shower and sob until his throat was raw and his brain was pouring from his ears. When Max and Daniel would cuddle him between them in bed as he cried and his Dads would bring him apple juice in his water bottle and Valtteri would bring him home fries from McDonalds to try and get him to eat something. 

And then sometimes, it led to days like today. Days when the world wasn’t so shitty and the world was a bit brighter and things were a bit stronger in his head. When instead of screaming the house down, all that mattered to him was whether his shorts needed ironing or whether he could get away with just whacking them on his legs. When he’d be able to run around outside like he was a child again and not someone that was coping with trauma and hardship and nightmares. 

The days when Charles wasn’t scared of the world were good days. 

And they were always the days that Charles knew he shouldn’t be trusted to make conversation with people.

Pierre was crouching down, taking a photo upwards as Charles looked at him, staring behind his sunglasses at the one true mystery in his life. 

“Hey Pierre.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Pierre nodded, looking down at his camera and flipping through some of the photos before he lifted his camera to his eye and started shooting again.

“Why don’t you have a mum?”

Pierre stopped still.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I just wonder sometimes and you’re really quiet about your family. Why did you even leave France?”

Slowly, Pierre pulled his camera away from his face and stared blankly at Charles. 

“You’re really blunt, aren’t you?”

“I don’t really know how to not be,” Charles told him, staring back unwaveringly. 

Pierre sighed and walked closer to Charles, and then kept going, walking past him and making his way down the trail. 

Charles walked at a distance, giving him the space he needed to build up the courage he needed to talk. 

“My mum is in prison.”

“Fuck,” Charles replied, pulling his sunglasses off his face and folding them over his shirt so he could prove to Pierre that he had Charles’ full attention. 

“What? No ‘oh my god I’m so sorry to hear that’? No ‘I’m so sorry that you have to deal with that’?”

“Do you want me to say that?”

“No,” Pierre told him, his voice cracking and his shoulders shaking, “I just don’t want you to think I’m fucked up now.”

“Hey, that’s a banned phrase. We don’t use ‘fucked up’ in this friendship, yeah?”

“She’s in prison, Charles. This isn’t something fucking cute or sad that explains why I was mean to you. My mum is a psychopath. And she’s in prison because otherwise, they don’t know who she could hurt next.”

“What did she do?”

Charles already had an idea of what Pierre would say, the way that he’d reacted to some of the things Charles had told him about his childhood and pre-Mick life having caused Pierre to flinch or fall silent. 

“She kidnapped me. Her and my Papa, they didn’t have a good relationship. They shouldn’t have been together, they should’ve split up before I even came into the picture, they should’ve done a lot of things that they didn’t do.”

Charles wanted to input, to say that he understood having a shitty childhood that left you fearful and scared of the people around you. But he also understood that Pierre just needed to _talk_ right now. And it was simply Charles’ job to listen to him. 

“They ended up having me and Papa had all rights revoked from her. He didn’t trust her, told the courts that she was dangerous, that she, I don’t know everything, Papa doesn’t tell me a lot of it. But he told the court she was a flight risk and if she was allowed me by herself, there was a distinct chance I’d go missing. The courts agreed, especially considering she tried to steal from the hospital once. I was six before I met her, we’d just moved to Rouen and Papa dropped me at school. I didn’t realise I wasn’t allowed to be with her, Papa told me Mama moved away for work, and she came to my school and she spoke to the secretary and told them and was able to prove she was my Mama.”

They were still walking as Pierre talked, occasionally stopping so Pierre could take photos of something. Charles wasn’t at all surprised that Pierre kept himself busy whilst also speaking in that same monotonous tone that he himself did when he had to deal with shit he hated. When the dark thread in your mind got pulled and pulled and it was all dredged through the mud and the things that you tried to pretend weren’t fogging your mind. 

“I was playing with my friends, there were these new kids at school and we were teaching them how to speak French properly, and my teacher comes to me and has me follow her to the office. And Mama picks me up and I asked who she was, and my teacher said ‘she’s your Mama, Pierre, she has your smile’, and I went with it.”

“Because you were six, you didn’t realise it wasn’t meant to be happening.” Charles murmured as Pierre nodded.

“She had a real passport made for me and everything. She put me on an aeroplane with her and told me that she’s taking me to meet Papa in Greece because Papa knew I wanted to see the Greek gods, and I don’t know how she knew that. She just did. I spent three months in Greece with her, asking when we’d see Papa…”

“But you never did.”

Pierre shook his head and sat down on the bank of the river, placing his camera between them and fiddling with his trainers. 

“When Papa got me back, I didn’t understand that something bad had happened. My Mama was in prison but I didn’t know that, Papa told me she was still in Greece, and I had to talk to a lot of people and lawyers and police officers and Papa, and I didn’t get it.”

“You don’t understand when you’re young just much that messes you up, do you?”

“No you really don’t. And I was fine, I’ve never had trauma because of it, I didn’t have nightmares and I was fine. That was it. I was fine.”

There was a beat of silence in which neither of them said anything, before Charles carefully enquired,

“So what happened after?” 

“My Dad moved us again, and had to keep moving us. I got used to starting new schools and I never made many friends because of it. I only ever had those couple of friends when I was six and then I never heard from them again because my Papa had to keep moving us. I didn’t understand why that was the case, I didn’t get it when he changed my surname or told me that I wasn’t allowed to tell people my other name. I didn’t get it.”

Charles stared at him as Pierre paused. He understood what it was like to have been stripped of your identity and made a different person. Sure, Charles’ way of living had been very different and he didn’t have his Dads around at that point to hold him and help him to understand that whilst thing were changing, he was still, at his core, _him_. And Charles had also been way younger and still not understanding it all himself, but he’d suffered through not knowing who he truly was either. 

“When I got older, we tried to settle in North-West France. I think I was about fourteen, and I hated it. I screamed at my Papa for hours and told him I hated him and I ran away.”

“A bold decision,” Charles smiled, trying to make Pierre smile.

“Yeah,” Pierre laughed slightly, “Lasted a whole two and a half hours. I went to the coffee shop twenty minutes from our house and sat there the entire time.”

“I did something like that once, teenage anger is so stupid when you look back on it, isn’t it?”

“It is now, now I get why Papa tried so hard to protect me. When I was sixteen, just over a year before we moved here, my Mama found me again.” Pierre’s voice cracked again and Charles dragged his backpack around to the front to pull his water bottle free. 

“Here,” Charles passed his water bottle across to Pierre and smiled at him, “It’s just water.”

Pierre swigged Charles’ water and held it between his hands, shakily trying to brush the tears away that were rolling steadily down his cheeks.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Charles murmured, “You don’t have to tell me anything, or anyone else. You never owe anyone an explanation for anything.”

“I didn’t know she was doing something wrong. I didn’t realise it was bad. Not until we’re halfway to the border to get to Germany. She was breaking all sorts of rules, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was-”

Pierre fell silent and Charles looked away from him, knowing sometimes having someone stare at you whilst you were trying to talk about something like this made everything ten times harder.

“She didn’t care about me. She just wanted to use me against Papa because she knew it would hurt him when I went missing.”

“How long was you gone?”

“Nine weeks. Sparked a manhunt.”

“Yeah I know that feeling... scary, isn’t it?”

Pierre looked across at Charles as Charles offered him an awkward smile.

“Did you get the whole blindfolds and blankets over your body? Told to say that you don’t speak whatever language the country you’re in speaks?” Charles asked, drawing a pattern in the dust beside him.

“Yeah, how did you-”

“I told you. Shitty history.”

“You’ve been through this?”

“Kind of. I was just a little kid, I don’t remember it really. Max does. He remembers things, always has. That’s just the way his brain works. But I know how scary it was. How it makes you afraid of the dark and makes you scared of leaving people because you don’t know where you’re going to end up next.”

“Yeah, it’s terrifying. It’s scarier knowing it’s your own mother.”

“I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know what it’s like Pierre, because I don’t. Not really. But I know how fucking terrifying things are. How it messes with your brain and your personality and even stupid things like being worried when you turn around in a crowd and see someone with their colour hair.”

“She just messed everything up. She had no qualms about taking me and sending pictures to Papa of places that we hadn’t been in for two or three days. She was so smart.”

“What ended up happening?”

“I jumped out a window.”

“What?!” Charles almost wanted to grab Pierre, to run his hands over his body and through his hair, to clean the glass and the blood and anything else that had attacked his skin to break his fall. He wanted to hug Pierre, to wrap him in his arms and tell him that it was okay, that Charles wasn’t going to let anyone hurt him again because he was a good person. 

“It was a rental car and you could wind the windows down manually not electronically, and when she was distracted at a drive through once, I opened the window and just pushed myself out, jumped, I don’t know what you’d class it as. But I ran. And I ran, and I had no idea where I was, I hadn’t drank or eaten properly for nearly ten weeks, and I was so fucking scared.”

“And that’s all people saw you as, wasn’t I? When your Dad got you home. You were the weirdo with the freaky background and the messed up family.”

“Which is why it hurt when I realised what I’d done to you. Papa moved us here after basically losing everything to get me back, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Papa had people asking about it at work, I’d never really had any friends anyway but when you’re now known as That Kid that was abducted-”

“No one else wants anything to do with you because they’re afraid of you.”

“Yeah,” Pierre nodded. 

The two of them fell silent as Charles processed what Pierre had told him. He hadn’t been lying when he told Pierre that he understood part of it, part of the make-up that made a 16 year old Pierre into the 17 year old he became. Granted, Charles had been much, _much_ smaller, more fragile and things hadn’t been as ‘simple’ as it appeared to Pierre, but the ground effect was the same. He’d been a person, stripped of his reality and his real world to be a pawn in someone else’s game. Only when it had happened to Charles, he’d had Max there beside him. When the ground was shaking and the rain was beating down over their blanket and invading their little crate of safety, they’d clutched onto each other and their sodden jumpers and slept safely knowing the other was there. 

He didn’t know how scary it would be to understand what you were going through. 

To be a political pawn in the game between your parents that left you terrified that you’d never see one of them again. 

Charles hadn’t exactly had the capability nor the desire to care about that when he was a child. 

“I understand,” was all Charles was able to say, “And I’m sorry you experienced it too.”

“I’m sorry for everything I did,” Pierre murmured, “I didn’t think about what I was doing to you at time, and now I’m sorry. I’m just really sorry.”

“I get it. There were kids paying attention to you and that made you feel normal, like you had friends. I get it, honestly. When you’ve been through shit and there’s just this one beacon of normality where someone doesn’t care about who you _were_ but rather who you _are_ , you hold onto that, and you listen to them, and you pray and beg that no one knows that you’re _weird_. I get that you didn’t intend it, and I’m not saying that it forgives what you did, but I understand it. I just can’t forget it, if that makes sense.”

“You even listening to me is enough, to be honest, Charles.”

Charles looked across at Pierre and scooted a little closer. 

“I still can’t hug you, but remember earlier?”

“The high-five?”

“The high-five.” Charles nodded. 

Pierre lifted his hand and Charles pressed their hands together, lingering against Pierre’s palm for a moment and curling his fingers just enough to slightly squeeze at Pierre’s fingers. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Pierre asked. 

“I think so. I’m going to talk to my Dads and Max tonight, but I think I’m going to be okay.”

“Thank you for listening to me.”

“Thanks for trusting me. I know shit can be difficult, and if you ever need a therapist recommendation, believe me, me and Max have a lot of choice to offer you.”

“I’ll remember that,” Pierre laughed, nudging Charles’ shoulder with his. 

Charles looked into his eyes, staring into his soul. 

When Charles had first met Pierre, he’d found his eyes fascinating. Blue eyes that had pierced his soul and left their impression on him that even hours later when he got home to Max and Dan, all he could think about had been the complexity of Pierre’s eyes. They were like a cut gem, grey mixing with blue and highlighting the aqua. Something dark underset his pupil and around the outset of his eyes sat a dark ring, slowly mixing in to the soft beauty of Pierre’s eyes. 

And now, as Charles stared into them again, there was only one thing on his mind. 

He knew he was going to fall in love with them one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so..
> 
> that was interesting 
> 
> kudos, comments, and feedback always greatly appreciated
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore


	9. Better Days - Mid August 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao it's been a while bois
> 
> not much of Pierre in this one, mainly Charles being a reflective boi
> 
> hope you enjoy :) x

Charles walked around the reserve and Barnet, their home town, with Pierre for a little while longer until Pierre told him he had to be heading back.

“I’m sorry to be cutting this short, but Papa worries.”

“I get it,” Charles smiled, “I’ve got something I need to go and do anyway.”

Pierre awkwardly loitered for a moment before lifting his hand,

“How about another high-five?”

“I bet I can do you a handshake,” Charles told him, taking a deep breath as he extended his hand. 

It wasn’t that he automatically assumed touching Pierre’s hand for longer than 0.3 of a second would give him panic attacks and nightmares. Rather Charles was trying to be smart about it. He knew he needed to step outside his comfort zone and boundaries, and he did trust Pierre. His heart would be safe with him.

“Are you sure?”

Charles took a step back to give himself more breathing room and nodded. He shakily lifted his hand but then had to drag it back before Pierre could touch him, wiping his palm on his thigh.

“Sorry, sweaty hands,” Charles said in explanation.

“It’s okay,” Pierre smiled, holding his hand up and waiting for Charles to be comfortable.

_There was nothing to be worried about, it’s just a handshake. You’re just touching hands, it’s okay_

Charles carefully pressed his hand to Pierre’s, feeling a wave of anxiety pour through him.

_It’s just Pierre, it’s fine_

“Are you okay?” Pierre asked.

Charles nodded shakily and shook his hand quickly before pulling away.

“Well that’s a baby step of progress,” Charles laughed nervously, his voice a little shaky as he nervously scrubbed his palms together. 

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I will be. Are you?”

“I’m alright,” Pierre shrugged, “I’m not upset by what happened. Really mad, but it helps not being in France. I’m honestly fine.”

“I wasn’t joking about the therapist thing. If you need someone, I promise me and Max will be there for you, we can find you someone. We’ve been through a lot of them.”

“I’ll remember that,” Pierre smiled and instinctively leant in as though to kiss Charles’ cheek however abruptly pulled himself back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. If you need to talk, drop me a text, yeah?”

“I will. Thank you, Charles.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Pierre nodded, adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and started to back away. 

“Enjoy your holiday.”

“I’ll let you know if I see any hot guys,” Charles joked, biting his lip and _attempting_ to wink. At least Max or Dan (or even Kimi, he wasn’t immune to it) weren’t around to roast him for the fact that he still can’t wink. 

He’s _trying_ okay?

He should get points for that. 

Maybe he should go to therapy for being unable to wink? He should mention that to Ada. 

She would probably find it funny. 

At least he hoped so. 

“See you around, Charles,” Pierre smiled gently at him and, with a final wave, he turned and left. 

Watching Pierre walk away didn’t really hurt. 

When he’d watched Pierre leave his house a while ago, the day of their talk, he’d broken down in Dan’s arms and couldn’t stop crying for a while. Everything hurt and he felt stupid and dumb and a pointless waste of space. 

And now standing in a field of his home city, with the wind rustling the leg of his shorts and the sun smacking him in the retinas, it felt alright. The air was clean, it was easy, he could _breathe_ and honestly, he’d not felt this good in a while. Even with a small thrum of anxiety coursing under his skin, he felt alright. It was okay. It wasn’t difficult to exist for some reason. 

Charles could get used to that. 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Charles slid his sunglasses back onto his face and started to walk towards the entrance of the Lake. Expertly weaving between children running, fisherman walking, parents aimlessly stumbling along with their iced coffee after their children and chatting with the other parents, Charles took a seat on a nearby bench and ordered an Uber (on his Dad’s work firm account, he wasn’t stupid). 

He’d told Pierre he had something to go and do anyway, and as he sat waiting for his Uber to pick him up, he slipped his Airpods back in and turned his music on loud. 

His Dad would absolutely kill him if he knew Charles was listening to his music loud enough that he was absolutely going to fuck up his hearing. The perk of having been upset lately, however, was that his Dad was _way_ less likely to have a go at him for it and Charles was absolutely going to milk that for as long as he could possibly get away with it. 

And he was absolutely going to milk being allowed to steal his Dad’s Uber pool from work when he needed it. That was one of the many perks of being the son of one of the best lawyers in London. Charles would arguably say the world, but his Dad got twitchy if you said that. 

The Uber pulled up not too long later and Charles screenshot the registration on the app and sent it to Charlotte so that, should he turn up dead, they’d at least know that it was a Toyota Prius that he died in. It wasn’t _exactly_ the car that Charles _wanted_ to die in. Preferably he’d have one of those dark and mysterious story arcs where he drove around the city in a matte black Ferrari with tinted windows and sunglasses over his eyes even in the darkness of the midnight sky, his girl (best-friend, he wasn’t a fool) in the seat beside him with only one hand on the wheel lazily watching as people stared at them dressed in all their finery, only for his seventh husband to die a mysterious death and he inherit all of their fortune _yet again_ and then mysteriously vanish himself to a private island that no one knew about and live out his days as the saddened widow he was not. Probably not going to happen, but it was fun to dream about. To be fair, as long as he didn’t die in a Toyota Prius, he didn’t really care what happened. 

“Afternoon, Sir,” the Uber driver said as Charles slid into the car. 

“Afternoon,” he smiled, “How are you?”

“Very well, thank you, Sir, and yourself?”

“Not too bad thanks.” Charles settled back into his seat and watched Barnet slowly get pulled away from him as Jerry the Uber Driver drove them away. 

“Do you have business in London?” he asked. 

“Sort of,” Charles nodded, “Got something to go and sort out. People to… apologise to.”

“You are a good man for doing that.”

“I make a lot of bad decisions, Jerry, it’s about time I start owning up to them.”

Jerry smiled at him in the rear-view mirror briefly before fixing his eyes back on the road. 

“I’m sure many people are already very proud of you. Taking responsibility is a big step.”

“I’m tired of making other people feel like shit because I can’t control my emotions, you know?” Wow, Charles thought, he really was using Uber as his therapist again. Why his Dad’s paid Ada when he could get it way cheaper in an Uber he had no idea. 

“It’s a difficult thing, but you are still young. Embrace your mistakes, Sir, don’t just think about the negative connotations but think about what you’re learning from this too. Of course, bad things happen and you’re allowed to be mad or upset about what you did, but your past can help to define your future in a better way if you embrace it right. And I think you’re doing just that.”

“You know, Jerry, I think you’re right. I get so much shit at school because people act like one mistake guides your entire life, but it doesn’t, does it? You can learn from it.”

“Definitely. It’s growth.”

The drive into London was going to take forty minutes (and cost his Dad a lot of money but Charles wasn’t focusing on that), and Jerry could clearly see Charles was in a quieter mood, instead letting Charles put his headphones back in and stare out of the window with a solemn expression on his face as he thought about it all. Things were _better_ , not great, but _better_ , and even though Charles was the kind of person that wanted to run at 100 miles per hour and be ‘fixed’ because he’d spoken to the boy he needed to and he’d told his Dads about what happened in his head, it wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be like that. Life wasn’t ‘fixed’ because you said sorry to someone, at least not in Charles’ case. He knew there was still a mountain of progress to come, but it was the small steps of progress that mattered. 

He’d held Pierre’s hand. Yes it was brief, but it was something. 

When Alex had hugged him, he hadn’t tensed. 

He’d fallen asleep on Dan a couple of times. 

His head was a bit quieter the last few days. 

He’d not really had nightmares lately and his hands were shaking less. 

It’s something. Celebrating the small victories was just as important as the big victories. 

“We are here, Sir,” Jerry said and Charles blinked rapidly as he realised they’d made the forty minute journey way quicker than he’d expected. Clearly, he’d been very deeply stuck in his head. 

“Thanks, Jerry,” Charles grinned, leaving him a rating of 5 stars and climbing out of the car. 

Charles looked up at the building looming in front of him and slid his backpack on, clutching the straps as he walked in. He saw the security guard look at him and Charles walked on up, plastering on his best smile as he took out his earphones.

“Hey, Benny,” Charles grinned, “How’s the wife and kids?”

“Very well, thank you, Charles, and yourself?”

“As good as one can be when you’re going on holiday next week. Is it alright if I just visit my Dad real quick?” Charles asked

“Yes, of course, kid, you go straight on up,” Benny nodded, giving Charles a quick high-five like he had every single time since he’d met seven year old Charles ten years ago. 

“Thanks, give your wife my best,” Charles grabbed his personal ID for the place from Benny and slid through the security, swiping his card and going up in the lift. 

Once on his Dad’s floor, Charles stepped out and looked both ways down the corridor. He waved at the other managing partner and mouthed a ‘hello’ before going left towards his Dad’s giant corner office. Charles knew he looked out of place, dressed in his shorts and a t-shirt covered with the Burberry logo as opposed to the lawyers and associates dressed in suits, however enough people knew him here that no one blinked an eye. Rather, people waved and gave him a hello, checking in on him as he walked past. Even Catherine smiled at him when she saw the more content smile on Charles’ face. 

“Hey Britta,” Charles smiled as he reached his Dad’s corner of this world, leaning on the partition that gave her a little bit of privacy whilst still letting her see everyone and everything. 

The omniscient PA God that she was. 

“Charles! Hello darling, how are you?” She said, climbing up off her seat and leaving her work behind. Charles held his arms out and Britta gladly wrapped him up, hugging him to the point that Charles questioned if she was trying to murder him. 

Britta gave great hugs.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“All the better for seeing my favourite Vettel,” she joked. Charles laughed softly and hugged her a bit tighter.

“Is my dad here? Or like, is he free? Can I just speak with him real quick? I won’t be long.” Charles murmured as she stroked the short hairs on the back of his hair. 

“Go on through, darling. He’s just got off a call so he should be free,” Britta told him, kissing his temple and pushing him through. 

“Thanks, Britta.”

Charles looked through the windows of his Dad’s office and knocked tentatively on the door before automatically pushing it open. 

“Hey Dad,” Charles said when he hadn’t looked up yet. It would’ve made Charles laugh the way his Dad jumped up and stared at him like he was a ghost if it wasn’t for the frantic worry in his Dad’s eyes. Charles never visited him at work, especially not unannounced, and so it only made sense that he would immediately panic and think something was wrong.

“Charlie? What’s wrong?”

Instead of saying anything, Charles walked forward and around the desk to his Dad, hugging him tightly and simply whispered,

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian curled his arms around Charles and ran his hand over the Charles’ head and back, kissing his baby’s temple. 

“For what? What’s happened, Charles?” he asked, pulling away slightly to be able to look at him properly.

“I’m sorry for ever saying that I hate you and you’re a bad dad and I wished you’d never adopted me. I’m sorry for all the times that I screamed at you and told you to fuck off when you were just looking out for me. I’m just sorry for everything. I’m sorry for being a terrible son and brother and I’m sorry for not always making the right decision, but I love you, Dad. Thank you for everything.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You acted like a normal teenager, it’s fine, Charles. I know you never meant it, we all did. But you are the absolute best and even when you were screaming that you hate us, we still loved you. We’ll always love you, baby. What brought this on?”

“Pierre,” Charles whispered, tears falling, “Fucking hell, Dad, it’s horrible.”

“What happened? What happened with Pierre?”

“He told me about his Mum, you know how she’s not around and that? It was really bad, Dad.”

“On a scale of 1-10?”

“Maybe like a seven? He’s alright, just angry about it more than anything. And his Mum was terrible, I mean, I’d still say not bad as mine and Max’s was, but she’s the same as ours in that she just shouldn’t have been allowed to be a parent, you know? It really reminded me of how fortunate we are to have you and Dad, because the shit that happened to him could’ve happened so easily to us if you hadn’t found us in time.”

Sebastian pulled Charles back in, hugging him tight as Charles cried silently onto his Dad’s blazer. 

“Here, baby,” Britta murmured, rubbing his back carefully as she placed a cup of warm milk down on Sebastian’s table, “Just like you used to have as a little boy.”

Charles laughed wetly and looked across at Britta.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my favourite Vettel.”

“Excuse me, I’m stood right here,” Sebastian reminded her and Britta nodded. 

“I know. That’s why I said it.”

Charles laughed at the put-out expression on his Dad’s face, knowing that they were playing up the theatrics like they used to when Charles was little and he used to come to the office with his Dad. 

It was different these days. 

There would be no little Charles marching around the place in his Dad’s Court Robes and his Dad’s court wig on his head giving out punishments to anyone for any particular reason, presided over by Tommy the Stuffed Penguin held proudly in his hands as his judge. Now there was people asking him about university and avoiding mentioning school, talking to him like an adult and not the little Vettel that he’d grown up as. 

“You’re a brat,” Sebastian told Charles, causing his youngest to frame his face like an angel and grin at him. 

“You love me.”

“Go and sit down on the sofa and let me finish this, then we can go for lunch, yeah?”

Charles nodded and flopped down onto his Dad’s office sofa, laying his bag at his side and balancing his trainers on the coffee table as he took his drink into his hands. 

He was absolutely going to get in trouble for that, but he didn’t care. 

It was nice to just feel normal for a change, and this was the most perfect opportunity to remind his Dad that he was still that same annoying kid that he’d adopted all those years ago. 

**\---- Thursday 20th August 2020 ----**

“HELP ME.”

Charles jolted up in his bed as someone jumped onto him, rudely waking him up and marginally terrifying him.

“Girl what the fuck are you doing here?” Charles asked, his voice thick with sleep as he stared at Charlotte who was climbing under his blanket and into his arms. 

“I’m meant to be going to that art thing today and I’m terrified, _help me_.”

“Wait that’s today?”

“I swear to God Charles-”

“I thought it was tomorrow,” he shrugged innocently, “Anyway, what do you need my help for? I thought we were just going to vibe and see what kind of art there was and see that girl and see what you think?”

“I don’t know what to wear!” she complained, smashing her head into the pillows, “I hate girls.”

“No you don’t.” Charles yawned and stretched his arms over his head before cuddling Charlotte a bit tighter and saying, “I’m tired, can we sleep some more?”

“No! Charles, we have to be going in two hours and I’ve not even showered yet.”

“Well go get your stinky ass in the shower and I’ll figure out what you can wear in my sleep, alright?” Charles muttered, “You putting make up on or not?”

“I don’t know!”

“Fine, go shower and then we can figure that shit out after.”

Charlotte pouted however when Charles pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, she brightened a little bit.

“It’s going to be alright, Lottie, we’ll figure this out. I have a motto-”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do. Imagine what Max would wear, and do the opposite. There we go, that’s how we figure out what you’re going to wear. If it looks like Max would wear it, we’re not trying hard enough. Now go and shower, I’ll text my brothers, and then we can sort this out after, okay?”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“And yet I’m the only boy you’ll allow yourself to be in bed with,” he shrugged, “Go. Let me text my brothers.”

Charlotte rolled back out of bed like she hadn’t just popped up two minutes ago and snagged a fresh towel from Charles’ stack.

Horny Sinners and Panic Bois   
  
**Today** 8:53   
Charlotte is in the shower so don’t go in bathroom   
Max  
When did she get here   
Dunno I thought u let her in  
Dan  
No that would be me. She text me asking if you was awake, I said no but I’ll let her in and she turned up like two seconds later and I’m scared of her so I let her in automatically   
You’re scared of Charlotte…  
Valtteri  
Don’t act like you’re not. We’re all absolutely terrified of her  
You make a very valid point nvm she is scary   


Charles locked his phone and threw it back under his pillow, turning on his side and going back to sleep. Charlotte would be _at least_ another fifteen minutes, and he already knew what he was going to get her to wear, so it’d be fine. It was time for more sleep.

“I leave you alone for _ten minutes_ and you go back to sleep?”

Charles opening his eyes again and smiled at Charlotte, nodding sleepily as she glared at him. 

“What time did you go to bed last night?”

“I think it was probably closer to three. I was watching shitty movies with Max, Dan, Lewis and Valtteri and we lost track of time. They’re all up already because they’re freaks, but I was a tired boy.”

Charlotte had the towel tied around her and another was being rubbed over her hair. 

“How are things with them?”

“Alright. Dan tried to get Max off whilst we were watching a movie so Valtteri threatened to glass him, but they’re adorably happy together. Same with Val and Lewis. Like I don’t know what happened between them the other week but shit was weird with them, but I think they’re good now. Really happy together, Lewis didn’t drop Val’s hand the entire time and Valtteri was… Valtteri. I can’t even describe it.”

“So you fifth-wheeled them?”

Charles nodded and picked up his phone again whilst Charlotte dug in her bag for things to start getting dressed in.

Everyone thought that Charlotte and Charles would’ve or had slept together at some point, especially given Charles’ reputation and the closeness of them. Charles had slept with just as many girls as he had guys, and yet he and Charlotte were almost detested by the idea of sleeping with each other. It was why Charlotte could get changed in front of him and he felt absolutely nothing. He knew she was gorgeous and he knew that dating her would be great (if you ignored the fact that Charles 100% had the wrong equipment for Charlotte), but she was really more like a sister than anything else to Charles. An evil, conniving sister that he adored with his entire heart. 

“What am I going to wear?” Charlotte asked, turning around to Charles. 

“Go in my wardrobe and where my suits are, look next to them,” Charles stretched out again as he watched Charlotte rifle through. 

“You evil little bastard,” she muttered as she pulled something free, “You fucking knew.”

“Lots, we’ve been best friends for five years, you seriously think I didn’t factor in you having a meltdown because you’re going to go and see a pretty girl and not know what to wear?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too darling,” Charles winked as Charlotte pulled the floral wrap shirt on. Charles had all of Charlotte’s measurements simply because he’d made her _a lot_ of clothes, especially over the last six months, and as Charlotte tied it around her slender waist, the fit was absolutely perfect. The delicate floral chiffon had a plunging V neckline and as her still damp hair fell over her shoulders, the ends lightly curled and tickled at the hem of the neckline. 

“I hate you a lot,” Charlotte whispered, turning in the mirror and watching the way that the fabric melded with her body and became one. 

“I know you do. You look gorgeous, if that’s any help. You can wear whatever you like with it, because of it being cropped. High-waisted shorts would look cute, or you can go with the culottes that I know you’ve packed because you panic and don’t give me that look you know I’m right.”

“Shut the hell up, demon.”

Charles laughed softly at her before rolling out of bed when there was a knock at his door. Charlotte was still wandering around his room in just her underwear and top, and as much as she really didn’t care, he was still a respectful gent. 

“What’s up?” Charles asked, poking his head out of his door and holding it closed enough that you couldn’t see in.

“Tea for Charlotte,” Lewis smiled as he handed over the beverage, “And Max and Dan ordered breakfast so there’s some for you and Charlotte too.”

Charles grabbed the take-away bag of food from Lewis and nodded his thanks before diving back into his room and shutting his door. Charlotte was sat on the floor in front of Charles’ mirror to apply her make up, and so Charles dropped onto the floor beside her, sitting against the wall with his knee pulled up to his chest and the bag of food between them. 

“Breakfast apparently,” he shrugged. 

“Max and Dan?”

“Yep.”

“Excellent, Dan always buys the best stuff.”

“You’ve had breakfast with Dan before?”

“We sometimes did at school yeah, when I did Cheer. We were both in early some days so he’d bring breakfast for me because he got worried I wasn’t eating enough.”

“When was this?”

“Year… when did we have Mr Abiteboul as our head of year?”

“Year nine.”

“Year nine then,” Charlotte grinned, “He was fucking batshit, wasn’t he?”

“Abiteboul? Oh god yeah. He gave me a detention once for asking him a question in French and then when he told me to speak the language I was taught, I started speaking German,” Charles grinned, “He never said which language I was taught. Technically for all we know I might have been taught German first.”

“You heard any more about all of that?”

“Dad’s still talking to a lot of people,” Charles shrugged and took a bite of a muffin, “They’ve gone through all the legal documents so just waiting to hear what happens next. Whether we’re allowed to go and see her or not. Dad hasn’t spoken to Max about it yet, but I guess we’ll find out soon. It means going back to Holland for a bit, maybe a few weeks, but I don’t know if I want to. It’d just drag up so much shit and after everything I talked about with Pierre the other day, I don’t know if I want to have to go back to what we went through, you know? I just… sometimes it’s better living in blissful ignorance, you know?”

“I know what you mean babes, you don’t have to talk to her, you know that right? You don’t owe anyone shit.”

“I know. Max won’t. There’s absolutely no way he would. Especially ‘cause Dan probably wouldn’t be allowed to be there, he’d freak out and probably just go straight back to what he was like as a kid all over again.”

“And you need to take care of yourself, Charles,” Charlotte gently reminded him, dropping her foundation sponge and placing her hand on his knee, “You’ve been in a bit of a shit state lately, and going back over everything that happened all over again probably won’t help with making things better. You don’t remember it. Don’t drag it up.”

Charles dropped his head back onto the wall and watched as Charlotte broke up a croissant to eat. Neither of them said anything for a while, both eating and swapping Charlotte’s tea between them. 

“I wish she was dead, Charlotte,” he whispered, “Then I wouldn’t feel guilty for saying no.”

“If you want, I’ll say no for you. I’m not scared of your Dad. I’ll tell him you’re not going.”

“My Dad _is_ terrified of you,” Charles helpfully agreed.

“Why is your entire family scared of me? I literally spend half my time here.”

“Mainly ‘cause of how you dealt with Pierre. You were terrifying.”

Charlotte smirked as she threw the last bit of croissant into her mouth and picked up her make up brushes again. 

“You love me.”

“Yeah, I really do,” Charles smiled. 

Charlotte continued to get herself ready and Charles curled up on the floor, alternating between watching her do make up and brush her hair out and scrolling his social media, replying to comments and liking posts. 

“What do you think, shorts or trousers?”

“Try both on,” Charles shrugged, “And then we can decide after.”

Charlotte pulled on the shorts first and looked in the mirror, twisting and turning as Charles looked up at her.

“Try the trousers on. There’s something not sitting right with me about the shorts.”

Charlotte pulled the shorts off and tried the culottes on instead.

“You can get away with your converse if you wear them,” Charles nodded. “You look cute. I prefer them.”

Charlotte twisted in the mirror and then opened Charles’ bedroom door and yelling, 

“Boys!”

Max and Dan stuck their heads out of the room next door, whilst Valtteri and Lewis walked up the stairs.

Charlotte spun in a slow circle and held her arms out in a ‘what do you think’ gesture.

“Very cute,” Daniel nodded, “Love the shirt.”

“Nice,” Max agreed. “I like your make up.”

“Yeah same,” Valtteri said.

“Very pretty. Good choice of trousers, you look very flouncy like you’re going to get all the girls,” Lewis smiled.

“Thank you, my gents,” Charlotte nodded and went back into Charles’ room. “Get dressed, asshole.”

“What do you want me to wear?”

“Just don’t wear Burberry. Don’t show off. Just look _nice_.”

Charles rolled his eyes and stripped his shirt off, throwing it at Charlotte’s head in a strop. 

He grabbed a navy blue polo shirt with a white band around the ribs and pulled it on, messing his hair lazily, before pulling black knee length shorts on with rips down the legs. 

“This alright?”

“Beauts, darling,” Charlotte told him. They both flopped onto Charles’ bed, Charlotte curling into his chest and closing her eyes as Charles stroked her hair lazily.

“How you feeling?”

“Nervous,” she admitted, “I’m scared she’s not going to be the person I hope she is. She’s so sweet, but what if when I meet her, she’s not what I thought?”

“It’ll be fine Lots. You’ve only spoken to her online, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we test her game, see what she’s like in person, and then if she’s a bitch I’ll smuggle you out. If she’s nice, I’ll play wingman. But we’ll sort this, Lottie, we’ll get you a date, yeah?”

Charlotte nodded and closed her eyes, holding herself against Charles and hugging his ribcage as tight as she possibly could. 

“Will you let yourself be happy, too?”

“One day,” Charles agreed. 

Charlotte looked up at him and pressed a kiss to his chin. 

“You’ll always have me. Maybe we can adopt a dog and adopt a kid and raise them as best friends instead of dying alone if everything continues to go to shit for our love lives?”

Charles didn’t say anything, simply nodded and threw his head back onto his pillow. 

He wouldn’t let himself cry. 

He couldn’t cry. 

Yet his heart was threatening to explode with the pure love and adoration he felt for Charlotte. The girl that gave so much and took so little, and yet Charles knew she’d do it again in a heartbeat if it just meant that the people Charlotte loved were happy. 

Charles wondered how some people could be so selfless and others could only be selfish. 

Charlotte was a good woman. 

If only the woman that had birthed him had been too. 

~

“That’s her!” Charlotte whispered, clutching onto Charles’ arm. 

“Which one? There’s like twenty girls.”

“The one with the short denim skirt.”

“Oh,” Charles murmured, “I don’t like her.”

“What? Why?”

“Charlotte, she’s holding hands with that other girl.”

“So? I’m holding your hand.”

“You don’t kiss me,” Charles told her and Charlotte looked over in time to see the girl that had asked her to come here was kissing someone else. 

“Oh…”

“Come on, pretty girl, let me go be bitch,” Charles said, letting go of Charlotte’s hand and walking over no matter how much Charlotte hissed at him to come back.

“Excuse me darlin’,” Charles said once he got close enough, tapping on her shoulder to gain her attention, “Just wondering something.”

“How can I help you, Sir?”

“I’m Charles, Charles Räikkönen-Vettel. I just wanted to know, do you happen to know a girl called Charlotte?”

The girl’s eyes widened almost comically as she took in who Charles was.

“Um…”

“I’ll save you the hassle. You do. Well done for leading her on, I hope your little girlfriend here knows that you do that. Hope you’re proud of yourself too.”

“I don’t-”

“Charles, come on. She’s not worth it,” Charlotte said, throwing her arm around Charles’ waist. 

“Mess with my girl again, and believe me, this exhibition will never showcase your work again.”

Charles didn’t exactly have that power, but his Isä did. And if Charles told him that some girl had upset Charlotte, the girl that his parents saw as another child to them, his Isä would be quick to help her out. 

“You’re a bitch,” she snarled.

“Always babe. You don’t succeed by being a pushover. I’ll be a bitch if you be a bitch.”

Charlotte wrapped her hand around Charles’ wrist and pulled him away, knowing that Charles was close to starting a fist-fight with this girl in the middle of the exhibition, and that wouldn’t end well for any of them. 

Charles pulled his arm free and placed it around Charlotte’s shoulders, giving the girl a bitchy look over his shoulder before walking away. 

“I need to tell you something,” Charlotte said after they had walked around the gallery for a while, looking at the art and critiquing things that they really didn’t understand how it could be art. 

Mark Rothko for example. 

Anyone could paint a canvas red and then paint two solid black rectangles over it. 

Art was fucking stupid sometimes. 

“What you done?”

“I’ve been accepted for a part-time internship with Larens Architecture Firm.”

Charles stopped dead in the middle of the exhibit, Charlotte walking slightly out of his grip before turning around and looking at him. 

“What?”

“They offered me an internship, some work experience. And they’re offering to pay for university if I do some work with them.”

“What…?”

“Remember when you told me that you’re going to miss me when it comes to going to uni and I told you to remember that thought? It’s because I’ve been waiting to hear back, both from Larens and the University.”

“Which university is it?”

“What’s the closest uni to LCF?”

“Um, Uni of Westminster I think.”

“There you go.”

Charles liked to think he wasn’t the kind of boy that got surprised easily. And yet, when his jaw dropped and he stared blankly at Charlotte, he knew that he was surprised easily. 

“You fucking what?!” He screamed, not paying any mind to the fact that they were in an exhibit and should keep his voice down, too busy wrapping his arms around her neck and hugging Charlotte tight, rocking them side to side. “That programme is almost impossible to get on to?!”

“I know, and they took me. They want me. Larens want me, Westminster want me, everyone wants me, Charles.”

“You’re going be a stone’s throw away from my uni…”

“Couldn’t get away from me that easily,” Charlotte whispered, her voice thick with emotion. 

“You clever little bastard.” Charles told her, biting at his lip to stop himself breaking down too. 

“Yeah I am.”

“I really do owe you a coffee now, don’t I?”

“Hell yeah bitch,” Charlotte whispered, kissing his cheek and pushing him away. “I saw a Starbucks by the entrance, off you pop pretty boy.”

Charles rolled his eyes but pushed away from her, leaving her to look at some art whilst he went searching for the Starbucks to get Charlotte her drink. 

It took a while before he could find it, wandering in circles so many times that Charles was starting to convince himself that he was simply spinning in a circle like he used to as a kid to get himself dizzy. Except now, he was an adult and still had no coordination of where he was. Why his parents let him roam London without supervision he had no idea. 

Eventually he found and Charles joined the queue, smiling at the barista and ordering Charlotte’s specific ‘oat milk with three pumps of honey cold brew latte with a dash of cinnamon’ and a Java Chip Frappuccino for himself. 

After paying, Charles realised he had no idea how to get back to where he’d left Charlotte and pulled his phone out.

Charlotte🔥💕   
  
Where the fuck are you   
  


Charles sipped on his drink as he waited for Charlotte to text him back, walking vaguely back in the direction that he thought he’d left her before he heard a, 

“FUCK I LOST MY KID!” 

Charles would’ve been worried, would’ve immediately gone to help the parent that had lost their child, except it was Charlotte screaming and Charles simply stayed still. 

She’d find him eventually. 

“Oh my god Charles…” Charlotte said as she ran up to Charles, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. 

“What the hell happened?” Charles asked, trying to not spill the drinks whilst still hugging Charlotte. 

“Girls, Charles. Girls.”

Charles pulled away slightly and stared at her, passing across her drink and watching the grin explode onto her face. 

“What the hell happened?”

“Girls are so fucking precious…”

“What did I miss now?!”

Charlotte didn’t say anything, simply raised her eyebrows and walked past Charles, sipping on her drink as she headed towards the exit so that they could escape back onto the main streets of London. 

“What did I miss?!” Charles repeated, chasing after her and laughing headily. 

Charles knew with the grin on Charlotte’s face that finding out what he was missing wouldn’t be as easy as asking her that question. 

God she was an annoying little brat.

Probably why her and Charles got along so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehehehe
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to yell about cliff-hangers again


	10. Boss Bitch - End of August 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my luvs Charlie boy is back with his chaos 
> 
> This is also basically me being like ‘yo I miss my apartment in Ibiza I’m going to write a whole chapter about the country now bc I wanna go back so badly but there is a pandemic so I can’t so I’ll live vicariously through Charles’ and thats very valid 
> 
> Also this is related to Under the Sunlight so if you haven’t read that too it’s a more comprehensive holiday fic for this fuckin chaotic lot :) (but you don’t need to read that to read this)
> 
> Hope you enjoy :) x

**—— Friday 21st August 2020 ——**

“I’m not carrying you through the airport,” Sebastian muttered as Charles fell into his side almost the second they climbed out the car, still half asleep at the early hour.

“You used to when I was a kid.”

“You’re eighteen in six and a half weeks, not eight anymore.”

“Please Daddy,” Charles murmured, dropping his head onto Seb’s shoulder and looking up at his dad with wide and sleepy eyes.

“You’re such a brat.”

Seb pushed Charles in the direction of the luggage trolley and he climbed on, looking up at his Dad angelically as Seb pushed him towards the check in desk. 

“Love you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I think Max and Daniel are worse than me.”

“No, they’re not. You’re a brat, they’re just gross.”

“Dad!” Max protested, flushing a dark red.

“What? You are. You’re sweet together but you’re gross.”

“We were _gross_ once,” Kimi murmured, wrapping his arm around Seb’s waist and kissing his cheek from behind.

“Don’t know why you’re saying once, you still are,” Charles cheeked. 

Kimi grabbed his hair and squeezed it lightly, causing Charles to yelp and bat his hand at Kimi’s to smack him away. 

“Come here beautiful,” Kimi murmured, pulling Seb into his front and cupping his jaw, pressing their lips together and smirking when their three boys all groaned. Charles bounced up to slide between his parents, breaking their kiss and forcing them to hug him instead.

“Always gotta be the centre of attention, haven’t you, kid?” Seb murmured, rubbing his hair. 

“Always. Now, can we go get breakfast because I’m hungry?”

“We’ve still got to go through security, idiot,” Max told him, wrapping his arm around Charles’ neck and pulling him into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles hard against the top of Charles’ head. 

“Get the hell off! Max!”

Charles kicked his foot out at the back of Max’s leg to knock him out of his hold and chase after him.

The two of them sprinted through the airport, weaving between people before sprinting back towards their parents with Seb grabbing Charles by the back of his hoodie and dragging him to a stop.

“Behave, boys, or I swear I’ll send you both back home.”

The twins exchanged a look, matching smirks coming onto their faces as they shared the collective thought of ‘we’ll continue this fight once the plane lands’. His Dads would definitely regret letting those two share a room again. Charles would make sure of it. 

They ended up getting through security without much hassle and Charles grabbed hold of Max and immediately set off in search of some breakfast. It was barely 5am, but Charles was starving and he hadn’t been awake this early (in a strong mental state, he was ignoring all those ‘being awake at 5am because he’s having a breakdown’ moments) since before all the shit with Mick kicked off and he’d gone out partying with his mates. He was out of his routine, he needed it back.

Not the drinking and the partying, he was actually quite glad to leave that behind.

Just the socialising.

He didn’t realise how much he missed it until he was only socialising with his best friend and his brother. 

It was different playing on PlayStation with the boys. They all got along fairly well online, however when they went back to school in just under a month’s time, Charles wondered if things would be better. 

Since he’d started perking up and being a bit stronger mentally, Charles had found that actually it was fairly easy simply _talking_ with the boys. They all followed each other on Instagram and Lando had taken to sending Charles memes and tagging him in posts about bananas (don’t ask) and commenting on his fashion pictures with over the top cringe-worthy comments full of emojis and slang. Even George liked his posts sometimes. 

It was still weird with George. 

Charles was trying to take it slow with George. Tried to show him that whilst he’d had a crush on Alex back in the day, that crush was long gone and he was happily moving on with his life. 

To be fair, Charles was just happy to have Alex in his life. 

The guy was a good friend.

Charles hadn’t realised the value of friends until he’d pushed everyone away, Charlotte stubbornly gripping onto him no matter how rude he got with her. They’d always been friends, but since he’d lost a lot of people, it was nice keeping that chaotic demon around.

Even though she still wasn’t telling him what had happened at the exhibition when he’d gone off to find her a Starbucks.

“Has Dad banned you from how much time you can spend on your phone?” Charles asked as he and Max walked through the airport. 

“He said I can FaceTime with Dan a few times and obviously like when we’re on the beach and that I can be messaging with him. But he said I can’t be on my phone for more than a couple hours really each day.”

“Ooooh how you gonna survive that?”

“Dan’s actually going into UCL for a couple of weeks because he’s doing a summer camp with the under 11s division of his team, so he’s working anyway.”

“Got yourself a sugar daddy now,” Charles joked, jostling Max lightly,

“Yeah well, he’s got to pay for living in London somehow.”

“How do you feel about that? Honestly?”

Max sighed and looked down at his feet, his lips twisting slightly.

“Promise you won’t tell Dad or Isä or Dan?”

“Course not,” Charles said, picking up a toastie and carrying it over to the checkout so it could be heated up. They’d get drinks when they find their parents again. 

“I’m scared. I don’t want him to go. I know he has to, and I’m really proud of him because UCL have offered him an amazing scholarship and he’s going to be amazing at his degree if his A-Level results are anything to go by, but I’m just scared that he’s going to forget about me, or think I’m not important anymore. Like I know there’s only a few months between us in age, but there’s a whole school year between us. And I’m just so young when you put that difference in. What if he finds someone better at uni?”

“I really don’t think you have to worry about that. Dan adores you. He thinks you’re the best thing in the world. Daniel can’t forget about you, Max.”

“But he’s going to get busy, and so am I. I’m just scared we’re going to end up splitting up because we’re both too busy for each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dan’s going to have a completely different schedule to me. Games at the weekend all over the country. I’m going to have six A-Levels to revise for Charles. Nineteen exams. Everything’s going to get so busy. Chances are we won’t get to see each other that often and he’s going to be spending all his time with the other football kids and working, I know he’s on about doing the spring semester abroad. It’s just going to get busy and I don’t want to annoy him with how much I’m going to miss him.”

Charles didn’t say anything as the twins paid for their breakfast and walked over to some seating, not bothering to go back to finding their family yet. Not with the way Max was finally opening up about what was going through his head, he needed a break from their family if that’s the case.

“Max, I know you’re scared, and I know you’re anxious. This is a massive thing. You and Dan, you’re inseparable. And I know you love him more fiercely than you’ve ever loved anyone. And yes things will have to change, you’re going to have to get used to balancing revising and school with Dan and his football and his classes, but you two adore each other. You’re not going to let this fall apart. I doubt Dan would let you. And you can make it a thing. Like every other weekend you can see each other. And you’ve got FaceTime, so you can hang out and do your homework whilst he’s writing essays together. It’s not the same, but you’ll find ways to spend time together. Daniel loves you, Max. He’s not going to break up with you over this,” Charles said as he pulled apart his toastie and started eating it.

“You sure?”

Charles wrapped his arm around Max’s neck and pulled him in tight, kissing his temple and nodding.

“I’m sure.”

Max nodded and dropped his head onto Charles’ shoulder as they ate in silence, neither willing to break the subdued sanctity. Until Charles realised he had something to ask his brother.

“Where is it we’re going?” 

“You seriously still don’t know?”

Charles grinned and nodded, “I know Dad told us but I forgot and then I wasn’t paying attention when we was at the check in desk and Dad obviously had the tickets so I didn’t check.”

“Jesus Christ, Charles,” Max laughed and rolled his eyes. “Ibiza, mate.”

“Yes! That was it!” Charles exclaimed.

“The temptation to just not tell and let you find out when we get to Ibiza airport was way too tempting.”

“I mean Dad has basically been doing that to me for the last month anyway, so I wouldn’t care. Ada told me to bring her back some sand so as long as we get sand, it’s chill. She’s a good lady.”

Max nodded his agreement and looked at his feet again, folding his hands under his thighs. 

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked.

“Why hasn’t Dad told me that he’s been in touch with Mum’s lawyers yet you know?”

Charles felt his heart stop as he looked at Max.

“How did you find out?”

“I heard you and Charlotte talking yesterday about going back to Holland, and then Dad rang me whilst you were out asking if I could check something for him in his office and I saw the paperwok.”

“He’s barely even spoken to me about it. He mentioned it months ago that she’s been trying to get contact with us even though she’s not allowed. We don’t need her, Max. She’s fucking nothing. Don’t even call her Mum. She’s not our parent. She fucked you up, Max. You couldn’t fucking breathe.”

“But Dad’s talking with her lawyers so maybe-”

“No,” Charles snapped, “You’re not having shit to do with her, Max, I don’t care. There’s a reason why Dad hasn’t spoken to you about it and it’s because we know you can’t handle dealing with her again no matter how much you think you can. She’s a fucking psycho, and she doesn’t deserve anything to do with us, and most definitely not you.”

“Why did Dad tell you and not me though? No offence but like, you’re not exactly doing great lately.”

“I don’t remember her. You do. Dad asked me what I thought about it and I said it’s bullshit. He asked me back in like, May? April? Sometime then. It was months ago. It’s not got shit to do with which of us is more mentally stable. It’s the fact that you fucking remember it happening, Max. Do you seriously think Dad would want you to go back through it again when even I’m like ‘yep no hard pass’?”

“Guess not,” Max reluctantly said, his hands still buried under his thighs. “I don’t want to see her. But I just...”

“Wonder,” Charles finished.

“Yep. Can’t help but wonder what she’s like now. Now she’s in prison. Now she can’t hurt us. I don’t know, Charles. I don’t want to see her but I just wonder.”

“This is why Dad wasn’t going to tell you. Because he knows what your mind is like. And yeah we’re nearly eighteen and if we wanted to do this, Dad couldn’t stop us once we’re eighteen. But she doesn’t even know how old we are. She thinks we’re still like ten years old, Max. Why the hell should we give her any of our time when she’s probably still doing the exact same shit as always and not actually bothering to learn anything about the people whose lives she destroyed?”

“She really doesn’t?”

“Nope. Dad had a meeting the other day and she couldn’t even remember which of us was which. If we was identical fine, but even when we was little we didn’t look _that_ alike. She doesn’t know us, Max. She doesn’t remember us. The only reason she knew our names was because her fucking lawyer told her. Please, Max, don’t look into this.”

Max sighed and nodded, leaning into Charles and squashing his toast between his fingers to make it easier to swallow. Charles had seen that behaviour before, back when Max was fourteen. When the darkness in his head was slowly starting to win and Max was doing everything he could to avoid his family finding out and then for it to end the way it did...

“Let’s go find Dad,” Charles said, grabbing Max by the wrist and dragging him up. Max needed distracting and he needed a reminder that their Dads loved them. They were fine. They were going to be fine, 

It was fine.

**—Saturday 22nd August 2020 —**

Settling into being on holiday was actually not as difficult as Charles had expected. 

If anything, it was easier than anything before.

They’d explored the local area for a bit once they’d gotten to the hotel, Max and Charles immediately crossing the street at the hotel to head onto the beach and look at the extreme water sports to do whilst their Dads popped up to the local supermarket to grab some water and snacks, with Valtteri left chatting to a guy at the bar and watching the twins.

Their Dads had let the trio to bunk in one room together, with Max and Charles sharing the bunk beds like they used to as little kids and Valtteri watching them from the other single bed. They’d giggled and hung backwards off the top bunk bed (until they’d got told off by Dad), quizzed Max on his emerging sex life that ended with him being bright red and stuttering through answers when he revealed that he hadn’t been a virgin for _a while_ , played a game of poker in which they used some matchsticks they’d found as the currency. Max won, obviously, and Charles lost by a heavy margin, blaming his dyslexia for not understanding the ‘currency’ of the matchsticks when it was actually because he straight up just had no idea how poker worked. They’d even thrown a condom at their parents as a wonderful reminder that no one is too old for safe sex practices. 

The next day, they’d lounged around the pool for a while, Charles wearing some white Tommy Hilfiger shorts with rainbow lettering down the side of the leg and aviator Ray Ban sunglasses as he lay under the sun. He saw his Dad watching him, almost as though he was watching to see if Charles had a meltdown at some point because there were some girls that kept staring at him.

Instead, Charles had pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and stretched his arms above his head, finding the girls and winking at them before standing up and grabbing his Dad’s bank card and twin brother to go and buy some drinks.

“Those girls think they found your Instagram,” Max told him as they leaned against the bar, shirtless bodies getting goose bumps against the metal.

“The devil works hard but teenage girls work harder Maxy,” Charles smirked. Max rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything more, instead reluctantly shuffled around as Charles dragged him into a selfie with him.

Charles posted it onto his story, tagging Max with a caption of ‘day 1👊🏼❤️’ that had Max roll his eyes with a small blush on his cheeks. The girls that had been potentially stalking his Instagram squealed and looked up at him, with Charles instantly bursting into laughter.

“Can’t believe I’m related to a fucking Instagram influencer,” Max grinned and swiped the tray of drinks to head back to their family. 

“Bro, when I start rolling in that Instagram ad sense dollar you’ll be stealing it to visit Dan, I know what you’re like.”

“You should do it properly you know,” Sebastian said as Charles sat back down on his sun lounger. 

“What do you mean?”

“Build up your online presence. I was talking about it with your Dad, you have the ability to create quite the platform, Charles. And if you’re serious about your art and your fashion, you need a way to put yourself out there and you’re already building up on online presence, so why not capitalise on it and keep creating it?”

“You’d be okay with it?” 

“As long as you’re careful and you’re smart about it, I don’t see why not. It’s only like how Dad has his ‘Kimi Räikkönen’ tattooing Instagram page as a portfolio, you should create ‘Charles Räikkönen-Vettel’ as an image too. You’re talented enough, I think you should go for it,” Seb shrugged and smiled encouragingly at him. 

Charles flopped back onto the sun lounger and stretched his legs out as he flipped his phone between his fingers. 

There was no denying his Dad was right. Charles did have quite the following on Instagram and he got a lot of engagement purely for being talented. 

Maybe he should start building up his image. 

At least that would be something he could be in control of again. Something to use to paint the image that he wanted in order to get the fashion houses chasing him. If Charles wanted success, he had to create something that stood him out. There was enough of a gimmick in the fact that he was a twin, and it definitely helped that Daniel was a more than willing model for Charles’ Instagram that meant he got a heavy following easily simply for the attractive boys he posted on his account. 

And if Charles wanted to own himself, he had to start somewhere. 

If his Dad thought that Charles was good enough to create that through social media, then it was worth a shot. 

His Dad really didn’t get social media, but he supported Charles.

It was still a weird feeling knowing that his dad had his back and supported him.

He liked it. 

It was just weird.

**—Monday 24th August 2020 —**

Charles was sat outside on the balcony, bandana wrapped around his head and sunglasses pushed on as he watched the waves splash against the shore. It was late afternoon, almost evening, and they were meant to be getting ready to go out for dinner. Charles was ready, he always was. 

He’d dressed simply enough, white shorts and a black/white/red striped t-shirt with a black bandana, and as he looked over the waves, he felt calm.

Everything felt calm.

The last few days away, removed from his environment of being surrounded by the stifling atmosphere and expectations of his home city, it had done his brain the world of good. 

In a place where no one knew him, Charles had finally given himself chance to reset. To close his mind off and focus on himself and not the way everyone else was viewing him. Sure, there was still that little niggle in the back of his mind that said ‘that boy is watching you’ or ‘those girls are undressing you with their eyes’, and if this had been any other year, Charles would’ve been all over it. But actually, this year was about learning. About Charles finding comfort in himself again. 

Since Ada had mentioned to Dad about Charles having lost weight that he really couldn’t afford to be losing, he’d put some back on and was starting to fill out his clothing again better. And when he saw people trailing their eyes over him, treating him like a God in human form, it helped. It made him feel seen, but not in a bad way. 

It helped getting chance to just pretend _that boy_ didn’t exist anymore and he could be someone else for a while. Sometimes resetting yourself was the best way to move forward.

And then other times, it was dealing with your chaotic best friend at all hours of the day to remind yourself that no matter what, you weren’t alone.

Charlotte🔥💕  
  
**Today** 18:49   
HELP ME   
  
wat u done   
  
I love how you automatically assumed I did something wrong   
  
Well did u   
  
Yes but that’s not the point   
  
What have u done   
  
eurgh fine I’ll tell you   
  
I ACCIDENTALLY AGREED TO GO ON TWO DATES   
  
okay?   
  
AT THE SAME TIME   
  
right   
  
WHAT DO I DO   
  
easy   
  
take both at once   
  
EXCUSE ME   
  
polyamory babes   
  
I-   
  
Didn’t think of that   
  
Wow did you borrow your brain cells from Max to get that good idea   
  
stfu   
  
They’re so fucking hot Charles   
  
Can I come too   
  
I’m bored   
  
YOU’RE IN IBIZA   
  
oh   
  
fine   
  
Can I come on your next date   
  
Who’s saying I’ll get a second   
  
Excuse me   
  
You are literally the most gorgous lady on the planet they’re going to want all the dates with you   
  
What if they don’t like me and go off with each other instead  
  
Then I’ll fkin fight them   
  
You’re my girl and I’ll fight em   
  
I love you❤️   
  
Hang on gotta go flirt with the lifeguard on the beach from my balcony brb  
  
hoe   
  
u know it honey 😏💕   
  


“You alright kid?”

Charles nodded and dropped his head onto Kimi’s shoulder as he came to sit beside him on a spare chair.

“Charlotte is going on a date with two girls at once and she started having a meltdown but it’s alright now.”

“Yeah? Is one of them that girl you had to meet?”

“Nah, she turned out to be a bitch. But she sent me off to go and get her Starbucks because she got accepted to the Larens Architecture Firm, and when I came back, she was all ‘girls are amazing’, so I think it’s from that moment that I missed, which I’m _pissed_ about. But I don’t know. I told her to merge the dates either way and have fun. She’s scared the girls are gonna go off with each other and leave her alone.”

“Did you tell her you’ll fight them?”

“Yep,” Charles said, smiling broadly as he nodded.

“That’s my boy.”

They fell silent for a little while, sitting on the balcony with the waves crashing below them on the beach. 

“How are things?” Kimi asked, threading his fingers through Charles’ hair.

“With what?”

“You. Your head, it seems like things have been good lately, how are things?”

“Okay, I think. I had a nightmare last night, nothing bad, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up. Just came and sat out here for a bit, calmed down and that. It’s been so quiet in my head whilst we’ve been away. Kinda wished we’d done this before.”

“Us too, kid.”

“Do you think one day I’ll be alright?”

“I reckon so. And I think that day is going to come sooner than you expect.”

“With Pierre?”

“Maybe,” Kimi nodded, brushing his lips over Charles’ temple, “Or maybe with that kid that Max is mates with. Alex?”

“Nah, he’s got a boyfriend.”

“Did you ever tell him you had a thing for him?”

“How do you-”

“You cry sometimes in your sleep. And when Max was in the hospital, you used to say Alex a lot, ask him to keep you safe and that. Max does the same with Dan. Didn’t take two brain cells to work that one out.”

“You’re really annoyingly observant, do you know that?”

“Kid, I’ve been with your father for twenty five years, one of us has to be observant and as smart as your Dad is, he’s not the one that notices shit about you lot.”

Charles laughed softly and cuddled into Kimi’s side. 

“What was your nightmare about?” Kimi asked, threading his fingers through Charles’ hair.

“Mum,” he admitted, “Max knows. About Dad talking with her lawyers. And I was thinking about Pierre a lot lately. And so I ended up having a nightmare about her and Pierre’s mum.”

“Charlie-”

“I didn’t tell Max. When Dad rang him up the other day to ask him to look at something in his office, Max saw the papers apparently. He told me at the airport. I told him that we’re not having shit to do with her, I don’t care. I don’t need her, Isä. We don’t need anyone but you and Dad.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Charles knew that Kimi wasn’t asking him to undermine him. To make him think he was making the wrong decision or to force him to explain himself. 

Isä just wanted him to be sure, and when Charles huddled into him a bit tighter, he knew.

“Yeah. I was talking to Charlotte about it and it’s like she said, I don’t remember it. Max does. And I know how much it fucks Max up, how he has nightmares about it still now, how he remembers being in the cars and being separated. Why should I force myself to know about it? Why should I force myself to talk to people that let that happen? I don’t need it, Dad. I’m happy as I am. I’m finally finding my feet again, I don’t want to get them swept away from me again.”

“I think that’s a good call.”

“What do you think?”

“Personally? I’d rather your Dad never even bothered answering that email. You’re not her children. She fucked you and Max up, and she shouldn’t have even been entertained by the idea of you guys wanting to talk with her.”

“Why did he then?”

“Because when you were a kid, when we first adopted you, we always said that when you’re older, you should be allowed to make the decision if you want anything to do with her. But then everything spiralled, Max’s anxiety, Max’s suicidal issues, your assault, the way your brain betrayed you. And knowing that all of that stems from what happened to you when you were toddlers, it’s just not safe for you two. I don’t think so anyway. Your Dad disagrees, but we made a promise to not talk about it whilst we’re here, and your Dad is going to talk to Max when we’re back home, so we’ll see, I guess.”

“I want him to get a restraining order,” Charles admitted, “Seriously. I don’t ever want her to come near me or Max ever again.”

“We’ll have a word with Dad,” Isä agreed, ruffling Charles’ hair lightly and kissing his temple.

Charles didn’t say anything else as they watched the sun start to set in the distance. The lifeguards on the beach were still clearing up, one of them briefly looking up to where Charles was sitting and waved. 

Waving back, Charles smirked and fell into his Dad more. 

“You know, this time last year, I’d have been straight down on the beach with google translate in my hand and trying to get that guy to sneak off with me,” Charles said, “And this year, it’s actually kinda nice not thinking about the easiest way to sneak away from you and Dad and Max and Valtteri. Like even when we went to Germany and Finland over Christmas, there was still so much of me wanting to be on my own because I felt like I didn’t fit in anymore, but it’s better now, I feel like I know who I am again.”

“You’re our little boy,” Isä whispered. 

“I don’t mind that moniker anymore,” Charles admitted. 

For a long time, he’d detested being known purely as his parent’s son. He wanted to be his own person, building up a life away from the Räikkönen and the Vettel parts of his name. He simply wanted to be Charles. And there were still times that the expectations that came with being a Räikkönen-Vettel were paramount, but they were easier to manage now. 

Charles liked being their kid. 

It was nice feeling wanted.

**—Thursday 27th August 2020 —**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 04:20   
u up   
  
Yeah what’s wrong?   
  
can’t sleep. bored. didn’t even have a nightmare, brain just went ‘sorry luv no sleep for u today my henny xx’ and here I am   
  
why are u still awake anyway   
  
You sure you’re okay?   
  
yeah honestly, im chill just seriously can’t sleep for some reason. kinda wanna draw but my iPad is in the other room and im on top bunk and cba to climb down lmao   
  
Ok, I’m glad you’re alright. You know I’d listen if somethings up   
  
nah I text charlotte telling her I was awake and bored and she said ‘go the fuck to sleep you little psychopath or I’ll choke you with diamonds’ so she won’t answer me now she knows nothings wrong lmao   
  
She’s such a lovely girl haha   
  
fuckin demon is what you mean   
  
Yet you love her   
  
eh   
  
you never answered my question anyway why are u awake at 4:20am (ayeeee)   
  
You’re such a child jfc. But I am up because I was playing COD with George and Alex and Lando and we’ve only just signed off   
  
oooooooh yeah I forgot you’re an hour behind me. How was cod   
  
I died numerous times falling down a ladder   
  
lol me I do that every time and max just now pushes me down it because he gets mad at me for it   
  
How’s Ibiza?   
  
so fuckin hot. it’s like 34 degrees and I am M E L T I N G but it means loads of shirtless guys so im not complaining that much   
  
seen anyone nice?   
  
nah   
  
dad told me to stop flirting with the lifeguard on the beach and so I ended up flirting with the guy who has a speedboat   
  
he’s giving us a discount now for some like sport thing idk what it is because he kept throwing in Spanish words and my Spanish is limited to hola but like it’s a giant donut and you sit in it and he pulls you behind him in his boat and it’s meant to be like 50€ and he’s giving it us for 15€ lmao   
  
How the hell did you swindle that one   
  
you’ve seen my face right?   
  
Obviously   
  
there’s your answer   
  
So you became a thirst trap?   
  
yep and I am l i v i n g for the attention   
  
I’m glad you’re having fun! Where is it you’re staying?   
  
no idea brb   
  
??   
  
es cana   
  
Where did you go??   
  
Went to look out the window bc I don’t know where I am but we have a bus station literally just up the road from our hotel so I just went and looked at that   
  
Did you get out of bed?   
  
Yeah??   
  
Did you get your iPad?   
  
FUCK   
  
I’m going to take that as a no   
  
we love Charles Marc Räikkönen-Vettel being a dumb idiot 24/7 xx   
  
Your brain works in the most wonderful ways   
  
I don’t think my therapist would agree with u there lmao   
  
Okay yes fine you’re probably right but still haha   
  
are you tired   
  
Not really, I’m okay to keep talking to you   
  
thank u   
  
for everything. for listening to me when I told you everything, when I told oyu about Max and how fucked everything got. for listening about my shit and just listening when I need someone like I know I kinda unloaded a load of shit onto you and then kicked you out my house but like thank u for trusting that I just needed to get it all out   
  
and also thank u for trusting me with all that shit about your Mama, I hope you’re doing good with that   
  
I still feel so bad for that. I think about your face when I told you that banned phrase and you just looked so devastated. I’m just really sorry for it all and I hate that I made you feel like shit for it because you’re a good guy and you don’t deserve all the shit that people gave you. And thank you for listening about my Mama. I told Papa that I told you and he asked how I felt about you knowing, and I just felt so normalised from it, so thank you. Thank you for being a good guy, Charles.   
  
this got deep real quick   
  
Didn’t it just   
  
okay joking aside, please don’t feel bad. I know we’ve had this discussion a lot, but when I get home, I just want a fresh start, okay? I want to move on from all the shit of year 12 and take year 13 as a chance to be a new person, so please, don’t feel bad, just know that yes you hurt me but I’ve moved on from that now and we can start over   
  
I like the sound of that   
  
I should let you get to sleep anyway, Val’s gonna get up in ten minutes for a run so I’m going to tag along with him, so like go sleep, have fun, dream of me being the disaster child that I am   
  
good night / morning Charles x   
  


Charles locked his phone and dropped it under his pillow. 

Pierre had dropped a kiss on the end of the text message, and now Charles was _so_ going to overthink that for the next five days until he got back to the UK. 

It was difficult falling in love with a boy that you weren’t sure if he was destined to break your heart or not.

~

**—Saturday 29th August 2020 —**

“Why do I have to sit in the middle?!”

“Because you’re the smallest!”

“But I’m the better twin!”

“But you’re the baby!”

“I don’t want to sit in the middle!”

“Then sit on the fucking floor!”

“Kids, seriously, stop. Charles, just sit in the middle, Max sit behind Dad, Valtteri sit behind me. And don’t keep arguing,” Kimi warned them, throwing each of the twins towards their rental car and forcing them in. 

They were meant to be heading into the island capital, to spend some Quality Family Time together. 

Charles wasn’t entirely sure what that meant seeing as they were on holiday together as literally just the five of them and they did nothing but spend time together, but still. He wouldn’t argue. 

The drive from their town to the capital was going to take about half an hour, and Charles happily fell asleep on Valtteri’s shoulder. Valtteri was the safer bet to fall asleep on as Max had a tendency to try and jostle Charles awake just to fuck with him, whereas Valtteri was like a statue and honestly Charles needed that sleep right now. 

There was nothing wrong. 

He was just tired. 

“You alright?” Valtteri whispered as Charles’ eyes fluttered shut.

“Just really tired, don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you, pikkuveli.”

Charles smiled but didn’t say anything else.

Valtteri may be a pain and it was hard for Charles sometimes to open up to him, but there was one thing he could always rely on and that was that his biggest brother would never stop caring about him way too much. 

Both his brothers cared, but there was something different about Valtteri’s caring. 

Maybe it was the fact that it always felt like an obligation for Max to care simply because they were twins, whereas Valtteri being their big brother meant that he had to look out for them, never mind the fact that there was only six weeks between them in age. 

For someone that thought he thrived on being alone and protecting himself, it was nice knowing that his brothers had his back. 

That his brothers cared. 

There’d been way too much time in which Charles thought he was destined to never have anyone care about him, when in reality he was starting to learn that caring wasn’t as simple as someone saying it. 

It was in Valtteri staying up with him when he wasn’t able to sleep even though he had hockey practice at 7am. 

It was in their Dad texting him and asking for weird drink recommendations and bringing them home for Charles once he finished work.

It was in Charlotte phoning him at 4am to tell him about the gossip she’d just heard about her neighbours having a screaming argument only to find out they’d both been having an affair with the same man because she thought Charles would love to hear it.

It was in Antonio reaching out and saying ‘sorry’.

People cared. 

And Charles liked that.

“Wake up, Charlie,” Valtteri murmured and Charles blinked awake sleepily, scrubbing at his eyes under his sunglasses.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Charles?” Dad asked, turning in his seat to stare at him.

“Yeah why?”

“Have you been sleeping properly?”

“Yeah? I slept for like eight hours last night. I’m just tired today, there’s nothing wrong.”

His Dad was still looking at him with concern evident, however Charles ignored him and lent across Valtteri to open the car door, unbuckling both their seatbelts and pushing his brother in the direction of it. 

Charles stretches slightly as he started walking, arms curled above his head as he flicked his head down to get his sunglasses to rest on his nose again as he looked around. 

“Ooh McDonald’s!”

“Goes to a Spanish country, still only focuses on McDonald’s,” Dad mumbled to Isä as Charles spun to give him an angelic grin.

“Can we go buy a drink? I’m thirsty.”

“You can go and buy water. It’s more hydrating, especially if we’re going to walk up to the Old Town, you need water and not _coke_ at 10am, Charles.”

Charles pouted, pushing his bottom lip out as he stared at his Dad.

“Nope, don’t care. Water.”

Knowing that he couldn’t win that battle, Charles sighed and started walking off, their Dads holding hands as they followed after the trio of siblings. 

“I’m proud of you for not wearing beige shorts,” Charles nudged Max with a cheeky grin, “It’s progress.”

“I’m just proud that you chose to wear Burberry and didn’t make it the most obnoxious outfit you could,” Max countered. Charles shoved him lightly, Max barely catching himself before he was ramming his shoulder into Charles. The twins kept tousling for a moment before Max swiped the sunglasses from Charles’ face and took off in a run, diving between other tourists and general residents of the island as they ran towards the harbour. 

“Du bist so ein Depp!” Charles yelled.

“Did he just insult Max in German…?”

“Yep.”

Charles didn’t listen to the rest of his parent’s conversation as he kept chasing Max, the pair of them only just stopping in time as Charles rammed into him to stop them from toppling straight over into the harbour. 

“Give me them back!” 

“Stop being a little shit!”

Charles jumped onto Max’s back, arms wrapping around his neck in a way that would’ve cut off his breathing if Max didn’t instantly bend over and try to tip Charles off him. 

“Kids, seriously!”

Falling headfirst over Max’s shoulder, Charles lay on the floor staring up at his twin brother. Neither of them said anything for a moment before bursting into laughter, staring at each other until Max joined him on the floor, pressing his hands into the concrete. 

“Can we leave them here?” Valtteri asked to their parents as the twins couldn’t stop giggling. Charles was barely able to open his eyes due to his laughter, however when he slightly could, he could see the way that his Dads were looking down fondly at them. 

Max was still laughing when Charles pulled his sunglasses back off him with people staring down at the twins as they passed them. 

For a moment, Charles stayed on the floor with him, not bothering to think about the fact that he was wearing (once again) a lot of Burberry that cost a lot of money and all he was doing was getting it dusty and mucky. 

However, this time, there was something different about it. 

It was like with every pull of laughter, another strip of fear was pulled from his heart. 

Another bad thought was pulled from his mind. 

Another stupid bit of darkness was flung into the fireball and started disintegrating under its power. 

Half of his heart expected him to feel powerless, like he couldn’t control what was going on in his head at the pull of laughter, when in actuality it was finally as though everything was being cleansed. As if that dream of starting afresh was coming true, like his brain was acknowledging that they were trying to get back on the path that Charles wanted to be on. The path that led him to having a good relationship with his brothers and his fathers, that didn’t leave him afraid of the woman that birthed him but rather left him feeling like he could say no and people listened. 

No

Charles didn’t want her. 

No 

Charles didn’t need her.

No

The darkness wouldn’t win

And when he looked across at his brother, saw the way that Max had that same bright grin on his face and wasn’t thinking about anything other than the fact that he’d stolen Charles’ sunglasses and nearly pushed them into the harbour, he knew one specific thing. 

Things were about to start getting better

He didn’t know how he knew that

He just did

Maybe it had something to do with that thing caught his eye over Max’s shoulder.

**—SEPTEMBER 1ST 2020 —**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 11:47   
Hey, now you’re back, do you want to meet up for lunch one day?  
  
I’d love to! I’ve got therapy on Wednesday but we can do Thursday if you want?  
  
Sounds good👍🏼 Hope you had a great time! X   
  


And there was that blasted fucking kiss again.

Charles was seriously going to ask if the pilot could just run him over with the aeroplane...

Sounds dramatic, but at least then Charles wouldn’t have to deal with his emotions being all over the place. 

_God_ it was so much easier when he refused to let himself catch feelings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put more effort into Charles’ instagram than I do my real one 
> 
> Also Charles’ passport. The boys were adopted from Holland, however I’m not gonna lie to you I have NO IDEA how passports work for a kid you adopted from another country, but I know you’re allowed to get a passport that matches the nationality of your parents if you are born in a separate country to them (at least you can with England and Ireland and im running with that information) so yeah, the twins both have German passports bc I said so and you can’t fight me on that xx
> 
> ALSO the screaming neighbour argument that Charles mentions Charlotte phoning him up about, that was actually based on my neighbours lmao we love England
> 
> Kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore - im back from my hiatus on there so feel free to come and yeet with me x


	11. I Don't Know Why - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand we are back lads idk when the next update will be but like we do be vibing I hope you enjoy
> 
> :)
> 
> **Content Warning: Mention of Drug Abuse (not by either character, they just have a conversation about it)**

**— Wednesday 2nd September 2020 —**

“So, how was your holiday?” Ada asked as Charles flopped into his seat.

“So good. Except it was _way_ too hot. It was like 30 degrees most days, even at night it was always like 25 degrees and I seriously thought I was going to melt.”

“And how many people did you flirt with?”

Charles flopped his head back for a moment, looking at the ceiling before shrugging.

“Dunno. Quite a few. Got quite a few discounts and the hotel we were staying in had a restaurant directly under it, so we got quite friendly with the waiters and I ended up flirting with some of them so we could get free drinks when we were at the pool or on the beach.”

“What did your Dad say about that?”

“He didn’t care. I think he’s worried about telling me off for stuff like that in case it sets me back, I don’t know how to explain it. But you know, it’s like that thing of I’m being my ‘normal’ self by flirting with people and getting attention, and normally he’d be kind of not okay with it, and I’m sure if it was Max or Valtteri doing it, he’d have said something, but with me, it was kind of like he didn’t want to tell me what to do in case I suddenly withdrew again.”

“Have you spoken to Dad about this?”

“Nah. It’s like... hard I guess. I can talk to him about a lot of stuff, but when it comes to things like boys or flirting or whatever, I feel really uncomfortable so I’ve not done it. I spoke to Isä about Pierre and he told me he knew I’d had a crush on Alex back in the day, so like I do talk to ‘proper adults’, but there’s just something in my brain that stops me talking to Dad about something as stupid as boys.”

“Can I tell you what I think it is?” Ada asked and Charles shrugged in a ‘fire away’ movement.

“What’s your Dad’s job, Charles?”

“Prosecution of people involved with Exploitation and Abuse of Children,” Charles answered.

“And when did you meet Dad?”

“In the care home after all the legal stuff.”

“I think this is where your fear of talking to Dad comes from. You’re used to Dad being this ‘untouchable, incredibly powerful God-like being’ who is used to dealing with really, _really_ heavy stuff because that was your first impression of him. When you’re upset, when you reacted badly to Pierre and you spiralled, who did you tell about writing the note?”

“I told Dad first.”

“And when you have nightmares and need protecting, who do you go to?”

“Dad.”

“But when you’re excited about something, when you get a good grade on a paper, who do you go to?”

“Isä, or Max.”

“And when you’ve got an idea for something or a new tv show you’re watching that you just _need_ to talk to someone about and Charlotte is ignoring you because you’ve bombarded her with 150 texts about it already, who do you go to?”

Charles smiled as that. Charlotte loved him, but she did have a tendency to stop paying attention when Charles got too invested and simply let him spam her instead.

“I tell Isä.”

“Are you starting to see what I’m getting at?”

“Kind of, but not entirely.”

“Basically, you are used to your Dad being the ‘professional’. Sebastian is a lawyer. He’s smart and cunning and can fix anything. He can make bad things go away. He deals with kids being hurt every day. And in your brain, you’re telling yourself that you shouldn’t bother Sebastian with these ‘pointless’ things. Talking about boys or girls, or telling him about that gangster show or telling him about your art, you don’t see the point of telling him. Not unless it’s got a purpose. You struggle to talk to your Dad because your brain tells you that it’s not important for him to know these things. Whereas Kimi, he’s the one that basically raised you from being a little kid. He was there for your first crushes and kisses in the playground, he was there when you were learning to read and write and speak French and English and he was the one that taught you Finnish.”

“I always feel bad for not learning it properly,” Charles murmured sadly. 

“Exactly. Whereas German, your Dad’s native language, you already had an understanding of because Max taught you it, didn’t he? So you’ve never had that same connection to your Dad in the way that you did with Isä. He was the one that’s always listened to your ‘stupid’ comments. So when it comes to something like wanting to talk about how you feel about boys, your brain tells you that you have to talk to Kimi because Sebastian ‘doesn’t care’, but I can guarantee you that your Dad would love to listen to you. Does Max talk to your Dads about Daniel?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I know he talks to Isä, but Daniel is basically always at our house so Dad just talks to Daniel himself. Daniel came over yesterday because he’s moving into his accommodation in a few weekends time, so he’s wanting to spend some time with Max and all that. And when we were on holiday, we threw a condom at my Dads because it was funny to us and it came from Max’s bag and Dad knew it, so I guess Max does talk to Dad about some stuff because he knows about Max’s sex life apparently.”

“How are you dealing with knowing that Max is being intimate with someone? Is it triggering any bad feelings?”

Charles laughed softly and shrugged as he ran his hand up and down the arm rest.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, but I also don’t really think about it to be fair. I know he’s not just started having sex with him. I know he’s been at it with him since like February, but it’s weird. Like this is my brother, you know? I don’t really want to think about it.”

“So, your twin brother is growing up. Daniel and Lewis are both leaving home. Valtteri’s moving when?”

“We’re going to Bristol on the 20th September. That’s when his uni have given him his move in date for.”

“And you’re all going?”

“Yep.” Charles nodded and took a sip of his water, “Dad says that we’re going to help him move in and then we’re going to help do his food shop and that. I think Dad’s just doing it so that if either of us decide to run off at some point we know how to find him I guess.”

“So what I want you to do whilst you’re there, is make some time to go somewhere with Dad and _talk_ to him. Because being in Bristol means that you’re in a new place that is unconnected to anything that has been happening in your life, and this is your opportunity to tell him how you _feel_. I want you to talk to him about Pierre, and Charlotte-”

“Ooh remind me to tell you about Charlotte,” Charles quickly interrupted before letting Ada carry on.

“Okay, but I want you to be honest and open up about what’s in your head that’s not just to do with Mick, or with how you’re dealing with the nightmares, because Sebastian knows that, doesn’t he?” Ada paused to let Charles nod and then continued, “So this is you talking to Dad about some fashion idea you have and talking about how you’re going to be moving forward with Pierre and that, alright?”

“Sounds good. Do I have to do anything else, or is it just me trying to make him realise what I’m doing with my life?”

“You’ll know when you’re talking. You’ve got to let the conversation be normal, okay? Don’t stress out and take it gently, but talk to your Dad about life without all the things connected to what scares you.”

Charles nodded and fell back in his seat.

Talking to Seb was still kind of difficult. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, however Ada was probably onto something when she said about him not wanting to bug him. 

Even when Charles had been little, he’d always naturally gravitated towards Kimi because he was the one that actually cared for them. His Dad had worked long hours when they were little, first when they’d still been in Holland and then when they’d moved to France and Germany before settling in England. Dad had even had to go away for work once not long before they’d turned eight and Charles had never thought that his Dad cared about him as much because of it. The job always seemed to come first.

He understood that Sebastian was busy working. His job was intense and hard and _harrowing_. 

But Charles was still his little boy. He was still his Dad’s son. 

He’d still wanted his Dad to hold his hand when he was little and he wanted his Dad to watch him do his drama shows and be interested in him practicing his ballet and tell him his drawings were good without focusing on something else at the same time.

Maybe that was why Charles didn’t see the need to tell him about who he was now as a person. 

The boat had sunk on creating a connection between them that would be more worthwhile than just a ‘hey so I don’t want to fucking die today’. 

“Ada, how do I tell my Dad that I… I kinda lied to him?”

“When?”

“When I was sixteen. About something at school.”

“Was it bad?”

Charles shook his head and looked down at his feet, “It was to do with drama. I never told him that I did the year 11 production. When he asked where I was, because the performances used to start at like seven and I wouldn’t get home until like ten, I used to lie and tell him I was off at a party or something. It’s the only time I’ve ever lied to him.”

“Did you lie to everyone?”

Charles nodded reluctantly. 

“Everyone was so busy making sure that Max was okay, because this was the year after he nearly, you know,” Charles frantically waved his hands around for Ada to be able to understand him, “And they were all terrified that he was going to spiral again, so they didn’t take notice of me. I had four months of rehearsals and two weeks of shows, and I think my Dad noticed I was late home or going out like maybe ten times during that entire four and a half month block.”

“You’ve spoken to Dad about his relationship with Max, haven’t you?” Ada said and Charles nodded yet again, “I think this is where you need to have another conversation about that. I know you always feel a bit iffy about telling Sebastian that he puts too much of his attention onto Max and doesn’t focus on you or the way that you perceive the world. However, your drama is another thing that’s like you and your art. Drama is simply another version of art, isn’t it?”

“Yeah I guess so.”

“Did you have fun doing the show?”

“Yeah, I loved it. We did Kinky Boots. I played Charlie.”

“That’s the main character, isn’t it?”

“Yep. It was great.”

“So why did you not tell Dad?”

And Charles didn’t know. 

Partly it was embarrassment. 

Partly it was fear. 

Partly it was that same thing that stopped him telling his family about his art and fashion. 

If he told his family about something that made him so uniquely him, again, it was yet another aspect that made Charles somewhat vulnerable. 

Max had been doing an A-Level in _physics_ at the same time because he was _bored_ , whilst Charles was prancing around on the stage looking like an idiot. 

He loved performing, loved being an actor and doing music and being an artist and all the stuff that came with it. And for a long time, Charles had thought about going to drama school for university, however had decided against it when he realised how much he loved doing art instead. 

The other issue was that Charles loved being the centre of attention. And his Dad tended to get a bit frustrated by the way ‘old Charles’ had behaved, and being on the stage was another way that Charles had just been showing off. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with his Dad calling him a show off back then. The animosity he’d held towards his Dad had left him too frustrated to want to share part of himself with his Dad, and now it felt too late. 

“Do you think Dad’s going to be mad at me?” Charles asked.

“I think he’ll react the same way he did when you opened up about your art. You said that he was proud of you, right?”

“Yeah, and Isä kept calling me a talented little shit.”

“So think about talking to Dad as a way of talking about your art, okay?”

“All I'm getting from today is that I need to be more open with Dad and stop lying to him and hiding things from him,” Charles sighed, “And I know it’s a good thing, but I really hate talking.”

“You’ll be fine, just think about it as another way of being the centre of attention, okay?”

Charles laughed and nodded, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. 

“So, what’s the deal with Charlotte?” Ada asked and Charles sat up straight, his eyes lighting up and dragging his phone out of his pocket. 

“Oh my god, the best thing in the world happened.”

Charles started scrolling through his phone, looking for a screenshotted picture from Charlotte to tell Ada the latest gossip. 

He never thought to mention that he had this weird lunch date with Pierre. 

Probably would’ve been wise to try and get some advice on it considering the last two times that he’d been alone with Pierre both times had been a bit… _uncomfortable_. The first time had ended in Charles having a meltdown and the second had given Charles a nightmare about that fucker that birthed him. 

Fun…

**— Thursday 3rd September —**

“Do we get the pleasure of your company for breakfast?” Sebastian asked as he knocked on Charles’ door that morning. 

Charles was buried deep in his quilt, barely the tip of his hair visible under it. 

“No,” Charles mumbled sleepily, eyes still screwed shut. 

If he didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t have to wake up. He didn’t have to get up. 

He was _tired_ and it was probably only like eight am and that was too early and Charles planned on sleeping for _at least_ another three hours. He wasn’t meeting Pierre until one in town, and as long as he started getting ready at like 12, he was fine.

Well he wouldn’t be. 

But at least it wouldn’t let him overthink his outfit. 

To be fair, if Charles had his way, he would’ve just worn his sweats and thrasher hoodie, however he felt as though he should at least dress a little nicer. 

Not that this was a date 

Because it wasn’t. 

It absolutely wasn’t. 

It was just two mates going out for lunch.

Having a catch up.

Charlotte always posted on her Instagram when they went for lunch together about ‘ladies at lunch’ and that wasn’t a date then. Absolutely not. 

He loved the girl but it wasn’t a date.

Same with Pierre. 

Because it wasn’t a date.

Two dudes hanging out. 

If you couldn’t tell, Charles was trying to stop himself from freaking out. 

It was working pretty well to be honest! He had to admit, he was rather impressed with himself. 

“Why are you not getting up?”

“Sleep,” Charles mumbled, rolling the opposite way to wherever his Dad was sat looking at him to try and get back to sleep.

Life was better when you were unconscious.

“Charles, it’s breakfast time.”

“Dad, it’s sleepy time.”

“It’s nearly ten, Charles.”

Oh, so it was later than he thought. 

Eh

Still plenty of time to sleep and get up later.

“Come on, it’s time to get up. You’re not spending all morning in bed. You’ve got to clean your room and shower before you go out.”

His Dad pulled the quilt off Charles’ head and Charles scrunched his eyes closed even harder.

“Come on, Dan and Max ordered breakfast.”

Charles sneaked his eye open and stared at him.

“Pancakes?”

“Pancakes,” Dad nodded, a smile working onto his face. 

“Okay fine.”

Charles pushed himself up into a seated position and stretched his arms above his head, groaning lowly and his fingers clicking as he moved. 

His Dad rolled his eyes fondly and climbed off Charles’ bed, heading back out so that he could leave Charles to get up. 

“Dad,” Charles called, stopping his Dad in his tracks, “You know when we go to Bristol? Can we do something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I just… I really want to _talk_ to you and Ada said we should do it in Bristol because it’ll be easier for me. If you don’t want to, it’s alright, but I thought I’d ask.” Charles looked down at his blanket as he yawned, insecurely pulling at a loose thread on his blanket without looking up at his Dad.

“We can do that, kiddo,” Sebastian said, leaning across and ruffling Charles’ hair. “We’ll sort something out when we get there, that alright?”

Looking up at his Dad, Charles broke out into a soft smile and felt the wave of protection run through his body. 

It was that same wave of protection that he’d gotten when he’d been a little kid and he understood that his new Daddy wasn’t going to hurt him or Max and that Charles could sleep without having to keep waking himself up to make sure Max was still in the bed beside him. That Max wasn’t going to be snuck away from him or to check if Max was having silent nightmares or what Charles now understood were panic attacks. 

He’d been terrified as a child. Ready to fight the world and destroy everyone just because he felt, even as a five year old and not fully understanding it, that the world owed him something simply for letting himself and his brother go through this. 

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for taking care of us,” Charles smiled. “We don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything in the world, Charlie. You never deserved anything less.”

Charles didn’t say anything more. 

He couldn’t.

As much as the torment of going through Mick and the nightmares and the touch aversion still plagued him, he tried to see the sliver of hope shining through. To see that not everything bad stuck all the time. 

He’d never been a good child. He was always the one getting in fights, kicking off at his parents and never bothering with homework so he’d end up in detention. For a while, Charles had spent more time in the isolation block than he did his actual classrooms purely because he didn’t care about school. Nothing mattered to him the way that it should’ve. 

Growing up had been hard. 

It was still hard.

And yet the shock to the system that was Pierre, had turned out to be the best thing to happen to him. 

Yes, it had sent him down a dark spiral for a little while, however things were a bit brighter lately. 

Whether it was the changing season or the chance for a fresh start at school for his final year, he didn’t know. 

What he did know was that he now understood just how lucky he’d been to get the parents he did. To be held in their arms and comforted and told that he mattered beyond just being a money source. 

“I’ll let you get up, anyway,” Seb smiled and turned on his heel, shutting Charles’ door quietly behind him as Charles got lost in his head again.

Part of him wished he could remember that first time they’d met Dad. Not in the care home, the time before. But Charles couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember where they’d been. Sure the care home had been the first time they’d talked to him as their future Dad, but Charles swore there’d been a time before. A moment at which he’d looked across at the scary man with the nice smile and turned to Max and felt _safe_ for the first time in their lives. 

He’d never remember it had been the last time he’d ever seen _her_.

—

Pierre   
  
**Today** 12:53   
lmao guess what   
  
You’re running late, aren’t you?   
  
ding ding ding we’ve got a winner   
  
That’s alright, how late are you going to be?   
  
Only like 15 mins, I’m leaving mine in a few   


“I thought you was meant to be going?”

Charles was currently sat on the bottom step of the stairs, his backpack at his feet and his arms crossed over his knees to bury his head.

He felt someone sit down beside him and Charles instinctively flinched away from their touch.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

Charles shook his head.

“That’s alright. Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

Charles shook his head again.

He couldn’t talk. 

His throat felt clogged with emotion and his body felt so heavy and on fire that he didn’t have the capacity to move. 

“Do you want me to talk at you, try and distract you?”

Charles shrugged. 

He didn’t know what he wanted aside from this heavy weight in his heart to fuck off and let him be _normal_.

“Okay, so, whilst you guys were on holiday, Daniel and me went to UCL so we could have a look at his accommodation. I don’t know if Max told you, but Daniel didn’t realise that he wouldn’t have a toaster when he moved in and he had a full-on meltdown about what to do.”

Charles smiled into his arms as he tried to focus on not letting the rapid breathing take over but rather focus on Lewis and his stupid stories about Daniel. 

The more Lewis talked, the more Charles could feel his anxiety lessening. 

Things were still complicated with Lewis, and Charles worried a lot about Lewis breaking Valtteri’s heart, especially once they both moved to uni. They’d be on opposite sides of the country and Charles knew that they were both going onto very intense and hard degrees. The chances of them breaking up were high and Charles knew it, and whilst he still didn’t necessarily get along great with Lewis, he knew he was right for Valtteri and he didn’t want anything to happen to him. 

At the very least he was one of the few people that really was able to get to the core of Charles’ brain and help him see sense sometimes. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, scrubbing his hands through his hair and looking to the side to look at Lewis. 

“It’s alright, don’t worry about me. Are you alright?”

“I have no idea. My brain decided to yeet itself off a cliff and now I’m just not having a good time.”

“You seemed okay earlier, what happened?”

“My brain keeps trying to tell me I’m going on a date with Pierre, and I’m not ready for that. And no matter how much I tell myself it’s not a date, I can’t get my brain to stop saying it, and now I’m freaking myself out.” He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes, wincing at the bright lights exploding in front of him. 

“It’s not a date,” Lewis gently reminded him, “I know you know that, but you need someone to remind you. It’s like when I go for lunch with Max, or you go out with Charlotte. You can hang out with a person and it doesn’t have to be a date. It doesn’t matter if you have romantic feelings for them or not. I don’t call every time I go out somewhere with Valtteri a date and he’s my actual boyfriend, Charles.”

“I know that logically but like everything started getting a bit…”

“You stopped believing you have the ability to make decisions about your own life again, Charles. But you do. You are the one in charge of your own life, in charge of what you do. If this isn’t a date for you, it doesn’t have to be. Consent matters in every way, including the decision on who you date and how.”

“What if Pierre gets mad?”

“I think if Pierre gets mad, we won’t be able to hold Charlotte back. Or Max. Or Dan. Mainly Charlotte though. And if he does, punch him in the face if you want. You’ve got a mean right hook.”

Charles sighed and looked across at Lewis.

“I’m so tired, Lew.”

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Tell me.”

“I’ve been trying so hard and it’s just tiring. I can’t keep smiling all the time.”

“Then don’t,” Lewis shrugged, “If you need to take a break, to spend some time alone and get your head back to where you need it, you should. The last few weeks will have taken a lot out of you, Charles. Not just socialising with Charlotte, but going on holiday, having people stare at you and flirt with you, everything else that’s been going on, it’s a lot. And you went from working at around 25% to trying to work at 100% at the flick of a switch, and I know you think you’re capable, but you don’t climb a mountain without safety equipment, right? That’s what you’re trying to do.”

“Ada told me to talk to Dad, about me. Not only focusing on all the darkness. And I think everyone’s expecting me to keep running and I can’t. I need a break.”

“You need to walk too, Charles. Maybe go out with Pierre for lunch and then come home. Don’t make yourself socialise for too long if you’re mentally taxed out. You don’t owe anyone anything. You have to take care of yourself, and if you don’t think you can do that, you need to let other people look after you too. Your parents, your brothers, me and Dan, even Charlotte. I’m sure she’d be over in a heartbeat to cuddle in bed and watch shitty movies if that’s what you need. You’re not fighting on your own.”

Nodding slightly, Charles buried his face in his arms again and took a deep breath. 

Everything still felt like it was on fire, and his heart still felt heavy, but at least he could breathe now. 

At least now when he tried to let himself be normal, it didn’t feel like such a monumental task.

“I’m not staying long with Pierre,” Charles decided. 

If he was going to try and get himself ready for going back to school, it meant listening to himself. 

He was a master at ignoring what scared him, and what hurt him. He buried emotions and painful memories deep in his heart and never pulled at them out of fear for what they could do. 

Charles was a master of repression, forever hiding and pretending trauma didn’t exist. 

Only it did. And it affected him. 

And it _fucked him up_ in all kinds of ways. 

“That’s alright. Do you want Dan and Max to drop you off in town?”

Charles shook his head, “Nah. I’m going to get an Uber, I need to clear my head a bit and if I get Dan and Max to drop me off I won’t get out the car.”

“Charles, if you’re not even wanting to get out of the car, are you sure you should be doing this?” 

Throwing his hands up in the air, Charles shrugged and smirked lazily at Lewis, exhaustion evident in his eyes. 

“We all know I’m the fucking best at bad decisions.”

“Charles-”

Charles stood up, grabbed his backpack and threw up a peace sign. 

“It do be like that sometimes, Lewis.”

“Take care of yourself, Charles.”

“Maybe,” he smirked, before shouting out a, “I’m leaving now!”

Seb shouted a ‘behave’ through the house from his office and Kimi called out a ‘bye’. 

Charles chose to ignore the worried look on Lewis’ face. 

It’s not like he was ever good at making decisions about himself. There was a reason why his parents always said that Max and he had one brain cell between them sometimes and with the way Max and Daniel had smirked at each other over breakfast, Charles knew the brain cell was receding with Max to figure out ways to have stealth sex. 

As he walked out to where his Uber was waiting for him, Charles laughed softly as he thought about how everything between himself and Max had changed over the years. 

When they’d first moved to Forests at the age of 11, Max had seen Daniel walking the corridors with that stupid kind of mullet hair and cheeky grin and he’d fallen for him straight away and then had a meltdown over it, leaving him to spend years just staring at his feet whenever he walked past the boy. Meanwhile Charles had never even realised that kissing boys wasn’t the norm for most people at that age and was busy trying to flirt with everyone that he could. Whereas now, Max could barely keep his hands off his boyfriend and Charles didn’t even want to look at boys half the time. 

How the times had changed…

Not that Charles was complaining. It was actually kind of great for a change. Not only did it give Charles chance to re-evaluate his own behaviour and be a bit more… _intelligent_ about who he slept with and let have access to his body, but it meant that Max had a bit more confidence. Max had always been quiet, more content to get lost in the background and focus on his education, whereas now he was more likely to sit in the cafeteria at school and he would joke around more freely, not hiding in the bathrooms or the library so much towards the end of the last school year. There had still been some times that Max had done that, when he’d needed to take some time away from everything to reset himself, but it made Charles feel better. It was nice to know that even when he felt like the world was crashing around him, Max was smiling and everything that had happened over the last year wasn’t going to tip him back into a state of mind that terrified Charles. 

Pierre was waiting for him on the high street, looking down at his phone and not paying attention as Charles climbed out the car. For a moment, he simply stared at him.

There wasn’t anything special about what Pierre was wearing. A simple black cap and t-shirt, ripped skinny black jeans and glasses (Charles didn’t know Pierre needed glasses), and clearly it had been a few days since he’d shaved as the stubble decorated his cheeks and chin. 

It didn’t matter though.

Charles wasn’t in love with him just because Pierre had dressed normally or anything, but what it did was tell his brain that Pierre was important. 

And he didn’t necessarily know what to do with that information. 

“Hey,” Charles called out, choosing not to dwell on his thoughts. 

Pierre looked up and instantly broke into a grin, pushing his phone into his pocket as Charles walked over to him.

“How are you?”

“Good, yeah, you?” Charles said, hands fixed deep in his pockets to avoid having to touch Pierre. Either Pierre didn’t notice or tried not to, and didn’t come close to Charles or ask for a high five or anything. 

“Good! Yeah, I’m alright, thanks. Where is it you want to go for lunch?”

Charles nodded his head in the direction of the small shopping centre and Pierre followed after him.

“How was Ibiza?”

“Good yeah. Nice to have a break. It was good getting to spend some time with my Dads and Max and Valtteri. It was really good getting to spend some time with Max without Daniel, if you know what I mean. Like I love Daniel, he’s great, but it’s nice to get to spend some time with Max.”

“Did you try and kill each other?”

“Roughly nine times. We fell off the bunk beds, then we tried drowning each other in the sea because the hotel apartments we were staying in, it was literally directly across from the beach so we spent ages there. And I got friendly with the lifeguards so they just let us do what we want. And we went exploring the Old Town in the capital which was cool. Max threw me onto the floor at one point and we couldn’t stop laughing and Dad just stared at us like ‘these aren’t my children’, so it was great.”

Pierre laughed softly and looked across to Charles, “Why did Max throw you on the floor?”

“He stole my sunglasses.”

He saw Pierre look across at him sharply with a questioning look in his eyes. 

It always amused Charles when people who didn’t have a sibling didn’t realise the chaos that same with them. When you’d scream and fight over the smallest of things that end with you nearly murdering each other simply to prove that you were the better sibling, only to turn around in the blink of an eye and commit murder to protect them from someone else.

Siblinghood was fun.

They didn’t really say much else as they walked to the place where they’d be having lunch and Charles led them in, smiling at the hostess.

“Hello, Charles! How are you?” She smiled, picking up two menus for him and Pierre as she led them to a table without even asking.

“Good thanks, Mari, how are you?”

“All the better for seeing your wonderful face, sweetheart,” she joked, winking playfully at him. Mari had known Charles since he was about 13 years old and forever would joke about how sweet he was. Also there was the small issue that thirteen year old Charles thought he’d be able to date the (at the time) eighteen year old hostess and used to flirt with her a lot. Apparently she found it endearing. Charles just liked to think it was something that made her smile. 

“Just the two of you today?”

“Yep. Max is getting ‘quality time’ in with Dan so-”

“So you’ve abandoned home so you don’t have to deal with them,” Mari laughed as Charles nodded through a grimace. 

“Never fun being surrounded by those two.”

Mari left them after that, passing them both the menus and letting them figure out what they wanted.

“Do you come here a lot?” Pierre asked, looking over the menu.

“Kind of. It’s more that Mari has worked here for the last five years whilst she’s going through uni so we got to know her pretty well. Me and Max kind of drag attention to ourselves so in places like this, you get used to our presence I guess.”

They fell into a somewhat awkward silence for a moment, and Charles closed his eyes as he looked down at his lap. 

As fine as he thought he felt, his heart wasn’t exactly slowing down and he focused on his breathing instead of focusing on the noise of the restaurant for a moment. Not that it seemed to work. It was like a cold wave was working its way through his body. 

“Are you alright?” Pierre asked and Charles slowly shook his head. “Do you want me to do anything?”

Charles shook his head again.

There wasn’t anything to be done. 

“Charles, here’s some water, sweetheart.”

Charles nodded his head in thanks to Mari and blindly reached out for it, letting his fingers wrap around the ice cold glass.

“Do you want me to phone Dad, sweetie?”

Charles shook his head. 

He didn’t need anyone and he didn’t want his Dad to be mad at him or call him a failure or be annoyed that he’d put himself in a position in which he was upsetting himself because he was too stupid to listen when someone told him that going out way a terrible idea. 

He should’ve listened to Lewis. Should’ve paid attention to someone smarter than him. 

He truly was the king of bad fucking decisions. 

“Open your mouth, Charles.”

Charles felt a straw being placed between his lips and he carefully took a sip of water as his head stopped spinning so violently and gave the cold spiral of panic chance to start slowing down. 

“Little sips, sweetie, little sips.”

Taking slow sips, Charles shakily let his hands come to hold the glass himself and he pulled his eyes open. Mari was sat cross-legged beside him on the floor and was careful to keep some distance between them. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your Dad?”

“I don’t want him to be mad at me,” Charles told her, the tears close to falling. 

“Sebastian isn’t going to be mad, he just wants you to be okay.”

“I’m a big boy.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be okay. My heart just started going really fast and I got a bit freaked out,” Charles explained, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to scrub at his eyes slightly. 

“Do you want me to get you anything else?” Mari asked.

“Some more water please,” Charles said and watched Mari dart off to go and get some before he turned back to Pierre. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“Is it my fault?” Pierre asked and Charles took a deep breath and nodded.

“Kind of, yeah. It’s not intentionally your fault, but my brain is conditioned to associate spending time alone with you with panicking, and... I had to keep telling myself this wasn’t a date.” Charles’ voice went quiet towards the end and Pierre went wide eyed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think-”

“It’s not a date. Whatever you think, it’s not a date. And I know that, and you know that, and this is just two friends hanging out. We can be cool together without it needing to be a date,” Charles interrupted and Pierre nodded quickly.

“I didn’t think this was a date, and I’m not just saying that to agree or calm you down. I only wanted to hang out with you, Charles. I like you, I think you’re cool, and I’m scared about going back to school so I thought if we could get to be better friends it would make going back to school less scary.”

“I know. I know. Doesn’t make my brain stop freaking out. I keep thinking about all the bad things and about how my brain automatically connects spending time alone with you to having panic attacks and nightmares and I don’t want that to happen but I can’t help it and I’m trying really hard and I don’t want you to treat me differently but you need to understand that right now my brain is going a mile a minute and I can’t process everything fast enough so please don’t rush me,” Charles blurted out. He took in a deep breath and picked up his drink to try and calm himself slightly.

Pierre didn’t say anything for a few moments as Charles calmed himself down before saying, “I don’t want to rush you, Charles, I promise. I want to go at the pace you’re happy with and I don’t want to push you in a way that you’re not comfortable.”

“Here’s some more water, Charles,” Mari said, putting some water down on the table and giving him plenty of room.

“Thank you,” Charles whispered. 

Mari left them after that and Charles shakily opened his menu again. 

“Can we pretend this didn’t happen?” 

“I don’t know, Charles. I get what you mean in wanting to move on and pretend things didn’t happen, but it clearly still affects you quite deeply and I don’t want to keep accidentally hurting you.”

“My past doesn’t define me.”

“No, but it helps to understand you. I’m not saying every time we hang out we need to be aware of it, but it’s even the small things that most people wouldn’t realise like your touch aversion. If you’re having a day that you’re uncomfortable with people being close to you, you need to talk to people because people care about you, Charles. And I don’t know if you notice that enough,” Pierre gently explained and Charles hated how logical it sounded. 

“I’m starting to,” Charles said with a deep sigh.

They exchanged a soft smile and Charles watched Pierre look over the menu, finally trying to figure out their orders.

Mari came back after a few minutes and took their orders, Charles ordering a linguine Bolognese (probably a bad idea considering he was wearing a white t-shirt, however, as previous established, he is the king of terrible decisions) and Pierre ordering something that sounded way too Italian for Charles to pay attention to. 

It had been years since he’d been to Italy... 

Maybe he should try and talk Max into going on a boys trip before they start uni next year. Depends whether Sebastian trusts them to not accidentally befriend potential criminals (aka mafia members) again. It was an _accident_ alright?! Charles hadn’t _meant_ to do that. To be fair, he’d been left alone without supervision. It wasn’t his fault. 

“How’s Max?” Pierre asked and Charles turned his attention back to him. “Aside from the, you know, being all over Daniel.”

“He’s alright. Had a bit of a wobble at the start of the holiday because of some personal stuff but he’s alright. Kinda stressing out because of Daniel moving to Central in a couple of weeks but he’ll be alright. He’s just nervous.”

“When does he move?”

“He moves on the 19th, so Max is helping Grace, Dan’s Mum, on the Saturday and then on the Sunday all of us are going down, or across, I don’t fucking know, to Bristol because Valtteri moves into his halls on the 20th. So that weekend is going to be manic.”

“You’re going too?”

“Yep,” Charles nodded, “Going to spend some _quality time_ with my Dad whilst we’re down there. My therapist told me I have to be ‘more open’ with my Dad about stuff so we’re going to have fun.”

“Do you not get along with your Dad?”

“I do. It’s just kinda complicated. When everything happened with Mick, I never wanted to talk to my Dad. He’s always been the stricter parent and he also used to be Mick’s Dad’s student. That’s why Mick started at our school because my Dad got _his_ Dad to come over and work on this case with him so they had to move to England. I never blamed my Dad because it was Mick who had this fucked up mentality that it was my Dad’s fault, but I used to panic that my Dad would side with Mick and tell me that I was being over dramatic. He never did, but it’s hard to want to open up to him about _me_ when all I ever used to think about with him was how he didn’t like the boy I was.”

“But you’re different now, right? I don’t mean how you don’t sleep around and stuff, I mean it in the sense that you seem more open about stuff now.”

“I guess so. It’s still hard. I hate feeling vulnerable. Like I don’t know why but I can tell my Dad that I’m having screaming nightmares that tell me to kill myself but I can’t tell him that I came up with this new dress concept design thingy and I want his opinion. There’s this weird disconnect in my brain that makes me scared of him in that way.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Pierre carefully said, “I think it’s more that you’re focused on the artist mentality. Art is personal, right? And there’s a massive difference between the vulnerability it creates. What goes on in your head, it’s logical. You’ve been through trauma, you have trauma. It makes sense. It’s still a vulnerability, but it makes _sense_. Your art, that’s more free form. It’s the inner part of you and your mind. When you’re struggling or when you’re happy or anything, art represents how you’re feeling. Your art is you. There is always paint on your hands or a plaster on your finger from where you’ve stabbed yourself with your sewing needle. That stuff is the _true you_ and you’re probably scared of your Dad seeing that.”

Holy shit Pierre was fucking smart…

And probably onto something actually.

Damn Charles really did therapy from everyone… 

Ada was getting a run for her money.

“Sorry to interrupt, lads,” the waiter said and placed their orders down in front of them. “How you doing, Charles?”

“Alright thanks, Ant. How’s the wife?”

“She’s good. We’ve just had a little baby boy so she’s exhausted.”

Pierre watched on amusedly as Charles chatted to the waiter, smiling at a photo when Ant the Waiter snuck out his phone to show Charles his newest son.

“You really do know everyone, don’t you?” Pierre said when Charles had finished talking.

“Everyone knows my Dads. Kimi did Ant’s wife’s first tattoo a couple years ago when they adopted a child and Sebastian was massively helpful in them getting the kid. It’s just one of those things that adults know my Dads really well, so by extension know me, and then everyone goes to Forests for school around here so all the kids know each other.”

As Charles explained it, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Smile,” Charles said and Pierre did, looking at him with mild confusion when Charles pinched his fingers in a chef movement. 

“You’re so weird,” Pierre laughed softly as Charles posted onto his Instagram account. 

“I know,” Charles grinned and winked.

They sat talking for a little while longer as they ate, which mostly amounted to Charles telling Pierre about some creepy dude on the beach and how his Dads had gone off on a date and left the boys alone to _not_ kill each other. 

“We were watching some docuseries in the hotel about like drug addiction or something, I fell asleep but like my dreams were crazy that night. I hate it so much.”

“What, drug addiction or-”

“People who abuse drugs, yep. Especially the people that pray on people who are vulnerable and get them addicted and then abuse that position they create as the person becomes reliant on them. Drugs fuck _everything_ up,” Charles sighed, tugging on his hair lightly as he read the comment that Max had left on the picture and rolled his eyes. 

He shifted slightly as another waiter came back to take their plates and drop the bill off with Charles.

“I can pay.” Pierre said but Charles shrugged him off.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You paid last time we went out together.”

“Yeah but Jamie gives me a discount anyway at the café so it doesn’t matter.”

“This is different, Charles.”

“It’s just money-”

“Charles.”

Charles looked up at the resigned tone of Pierre’s voice and saw the look that he was giving Charles. 

It wasn’t anything particularly angry or mean. It was that look of ‘please let me do this’, and Charles sighed. 

He hadn’t meant to splash money around again like it was nothing, and he reluctantly handed the bill over to Pierre. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just a thing me and Charlotte do. Every time we go out, we swap who paid last and when I went for food with Lots the other week she paid so I automatically went to pay without thinking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Pierre said, “I know you didn’t mean it. I just don’t want you to think I’m only friends with you for your money.”

“Most people only care about me for my name anyway, so don’t worry.”

“I care about you for a lot of reasons, Charles. Your name or your money don’t even come into the equation.”

There was a look in Pierre’s eyes. 

Something that Charles didn’t understand. He’d seen it a couple times before on other people, when they’d let their gaze wander over him a few times too many. They’d always smile and look away when Charles caught their eye, only with Pierre he didn’t. 

He kept looking back. 

And he had that smile. 

That crooked, cheeky, slightly embarrassed, gap-toothed smile with the blush rising on his cheeks as he looked over Pierre. 

There was something about the way that his eyes shone under his glasses as he looked at Charles, staring at him like he was something perfect. Some perfectionist piece of art. Perfectly sculptured and modelled to fit the ideal. 

He wasn’t. His mind told him that he was a mess.

But under Pierre’s look…

Charles didn’t really know what he was feeling but it felt like his heart was being squeezed tight and that cold wave of panic from earlier was being replaced with something else. 

He didn’t really know what it was, but it was nice. 

It felt a bit like that feeling he’d gotten that day that his Dad had told him and Max they’d be coming home with them forever. 

Part excitement, a bit of fear, but mostly love. 

Oh good God no…

Not this shit again…

Before Charles got chance to keep dwelling on his current state of emotion, his foot hit his backpack and he was abruptly reminded of what he’d spent fifteen minutes staring at in a shop in Ibiza before Kimi had smacked him upside the head and told him to ‘ _fucking buy it_ ’.

He’d seen it whilst he was laying on the floor in the capital with Max by the harbour. 

He’d looked over Max’s shoulder and it had instantly caught his eye, his mind filled with the memory of a chance comment from months ago. 

“I got you something whilst I was in Ibiza,” Charles said once Pierre was done paying. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” Pierre answered and Charles shrugged awkwardly. He dug in his backpack, his fingers brushing against it before he took a deep breath and pulled the gift-wrapped present out. 

Charles handed it over, his cheeks heating up with a heavy blush as his fingers brushed against Pierre’s, “The lady in the shop insisted on wrapping it.”

Carefully, Pierre pulled at the tape that held the bag together and looked up at Charles as he pushed his hand in. Charles kept flicking his eyes back and forth, barely able to look at Pierre for longer than a second before he was looking away. 

Was this what you felt like when the boy you had a crush on paid attention to you? 

He didn’t remember being like this when he’d had a thing for Alex.

Then again, that had all developed and crashed and burned so quickly that Charles didn’t really know what feelings he’d ever had for Alex. 

He watched Pierre’s face as he pulled the present out, a look of shock coming onto his face. 

“I love pandas…”

Charles smiled uncomfortably and nodded, “I know. You told me when we first met, in June. I saw it and thought of you.”

“Please tell me I can give you a high five right now.”

Nodding nervously, Charles held his hand up and Pierre pressed his palm against Charles. 

Neither of them moved as Charles gently slid his fingers into the gaps between Pierre’s, bending them just slightly to squeeze at his hand before he pulled away. 

“Thank you,” Pierre whispered, holding the small panda toy in his hands and pressing it to his chin. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re a good friend, Charles.”

Charles flushed even deeper, if that was even possible and pulled his backpack onto his lap. 

“When we first met Valtteri, he gave us a toy. I know we was four, it’s different. But it’s nice knowing that when things are new, you’ve got a friend that’s always by your side. The panda reminded me of that feeling and I wanted to share that with you.”

Pierre’s smile seemed to grow exponentially brighter and Charles tied his fingers together under the table. 

Oh he absolutely knew what the feeling in his heart was now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))
> 
> I can already anticipate the yelling
> 
> (I forgot to add... that making friends with mafia people comment??? lmao we love when I self insert dumb shit I've done into Charles' existence)
> 
> kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore :)


	12. Courage - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've peaked with using a Celine dion track as the chapter title
> 
> I hope you enjoy this👀

**— Monday 7th September 2020 —**

Charlotte🔥💕  
  
**Today** 10:27   
Wake up bitch we’re going exploring   
  
who is ‘we’   
  
You’ll see when we get there   
  
are u just still mad at me bc u didn’t get a present   
  
Nah   
  
Not mad   
  
Just disappointed   
  
oh jfc   


Charles was yawning as he walked the short distance from his house to Charlotte’s, sleep still evident in his eyes as he swigged on some smoothie thing that he’d stolen from the fridge. He’d steal some toast when he got to Charlotte’s. 

Now that Sebastian was back at work, there was no one around in the morning to remind Charles to eat and when Charlotte found out he hadn’t, she was absolutely going to have his head. 

“Morning, Charles,” Charlotte’s Mum, Marie, called through from the kitchen as he knocked and entered the house. 

“Morning Marie,” Charles smiled back and headed straight up to Charlotte’s room. 

“Whaddup hoe?” Charles announced as he walked into her bedroom, and Charlotte immediately narrowed in on the smoothie bottle he was carrying.

“Have you eaten breakfast?”

“Nope,” Charles said and held out his smoothie bottle as a silent confirmation that he’d used that as breakfast. 

Charlotte rolled her eyes and tugged Charles down the stairs after her. Marie passed over a plate of toast to Charles without Charlotte even saying anything, more than used to the chaos of Charles in their lives. Charles didn’t spend as much time at Charlotte’s as she did at his, purely because Charlotte’s Mum worked from home and she had a little sister who annoyed her a lot, whereas Charles’ parents were normally at work and his brothers were more manageable than a fifteen year old. 

Plus Valentine was normally practicing her music and Charlotte had a very low tolerance for her sister’s terrible music choice. 

To be fair, Charles was with her on that. Dan had a terrible habit of playing his music _way too loudly_ in Max’s room and it was _awful_. 

Some people just had an awful music taste and should not be given access to speakers and Charlotte and Charles knew it better than most. 

“You gonna tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Nope,” she smirked, “Eat your toast, baby.”

“I’m still not your child.”

“It’s alright because I don’t want to be your mum.”

“Excellent, you already know your lines,” Charles deadpan replied and Charlotte choked on her swig of tea.

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“Again, you’re delivering the role of ‘Charles’ Mother’ excellently, darling. Try it with a bit of a European twang.”

Charlotte stared at him for a moment with a look of pure confusion across her face, “What does that even mean?”

“No idea,” Charles grinned.

“Stupid chaotic little bitch.”

“Takes one to know one honey.”

“No but seriously, how are things revolving around _that_? Have you spoken to Seb much?”

“Not really. Dad’s only just gone back to work today, and he hasn’t checked his emails for all of last week so I don’t know if he’s heard anything. But I told Isä that Max knows and that I want a restraining order. I’ve got to talk to Dad and some other lawyers apparently. Legally she’s still not allowed anything to do with us because we’re under eighteen.”

“Does she know you’re eighteen next month?”

“Nope,” Charles sighed, “She thinks we’re turning eleven. She’s got no idea who we are, Char. I don’t care anymore. I spoke about it with Ada and she said that she’d have to give an ethical sign off on me anyway and she wouldn’t. Apparently there’s something to do with the way that I’d react to seeing her which could land me in some deep shit.”

“Mental or-“

“They think I’d get trapped in the loop again.”

Charlotte reached across the table and looked Charles in the eye as she tied fingers with him, “Don’t. Please. Don’t go to her.”

“I’m not going to. I still need to talk to Dad and the lawyers, and I think I have to talk to a judge as well because her lawyers want to get a court order in place that forces me and Max to have contact with her. So it’s going to like some stupid family international court thing, but obviously UNICEF are stepping in too because they were originally involved. I fucking hate this shit, Lots.”

“You’ll fight it, babes. I know you will.”

There was something about the strength of Charlotte’s words, the finality, the finesse and the way she sounded ready to fight the law herself that Charles knew she was right. 

He was a Räikkönen-Vettel, and they don’t go down without a fight. 

“Come on, anyway, I need to get dressed and then we’re going out.” Charlotte told him and took their plates of breakfast to the sink.

“You get changed, I’ll wash up,” Charles told her and she nodded. Marie was still in the kitchen herself, and quietly talked away with Charles as they waited for Charlotte to come back.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright thanks. Things have been a bit rough, but I’m getting there,” Charles admitted and Marie wrapped him up in a hug. 

“You’ll get there, sweetie. You deserve good things. Charlotte tells me there’s a potential boy on the horizon.”

“It’s early days. I have no idea to be honest. I don’t know if anything will come of it now or whether he’s one of those ‘right place wrong time’ kinda boys. Like, he’s great. And he’s really nice. But I don’t know if I’m ready for someone right now. I think I’m still trying to find myself and I don’t know if I can focus on someone else at the same time, you know?”

“I know what you mean, Charles,” Marie cupped Charles’ jaw in her hands and tugged him down to press a kiss to his forehead, “You’ll figure it out, darling. You’ll know when you’re ready. Even if you make the decision you’re not ready yet, if he’s a good one, he’ll wait until the end of time for you.”

“Maybe I’m not the boy that gets the happy ending, Marie.”

“Bullshit,” she snorted and Charles laughed, “Who told you that you need to have a boyfriend to have a happy ending? You don’t, Charles. Romance doesn’t mean a happy ending. _You_ write your story. _You_ decide your fate. _You_ can fall in love with yourself and no one else and that’s enough for a happy ending. Maybe you fall for this boy, maybe you don’t. But what matters is that you find yourself somewhere along the way. Your self-worth is not dependent on another person. They can help you but they don’t have to be the be-all-and-end-all, darling. You are an amazing, talented, brilliant, creative and beautiful young man and you will get a happy ending, there’s no way you won’t, alright?”

Charles could feel himself tearing up at Marie’s words and he looked down at the plate he was washing.

He knew she was right. 

But for so long he’d measured his self-worth against other people. Against the way his Dad saw him, his grades against Max’s (which never ended well, Max was a certified genius after all), how many people were willing to sleep with him, how long he needed to flirt with someone before they’d do as he asked. 

And now he didn’t know how to measure himself against himself.

Gratification had always been an outside factor. He didn’t care about himself as long as other people paid attention to him. For as long as he was validated, Charles would keep himself alive. 

Even when it came to sex, it was always about pleasing other people.

_“Oi, are you awake?”_

_“Charles it’s 4am what do you want?”_

_A fifteen year old Charles had climbed into bed beside Max, curling under the blankets and staring at his brother who was fighting to keep his eyes open._

_“I just had sex,” Charles whispered._

_“Wait what? How? Where?”_

_“At the sixth former’s party. I don’t even know whose party it was.”_

_“Charles you’re fifteen. You’re not even allowed-“_

_“They don’t care. No one cared. It was great.”_

_“Are you high?” Max whispered aggressively._

_“Nah. Drunk as shit but I didn’t touch drugs, Max, promise.”_

_“You’re such an idiot. I can’t believe you slept with a sixth former. They don’t care about you.”_

And Max had been right. They didn’t. Charles had seen the sixth former (he was embarrassed to say he didn’t even know the boy’s name that had taken his virginity) a couple of days later and they’d walked past each other like they’d never even seen each other. 

Charles hadn’t cared. He never cared. 

He didn’t have sex to have a relationship. 

He had sex to have fun. To have a connection to someone for that brief moment. To be able to just turn his mind off and only think about pleasure. There wasn’t time to panic about Max or his GCSEs or his Dads when he was getting his brains fucked out or he was seeing how many guys he could make cum at one party. 

How was you meant to embrace yourself as a person when the person you’d always been wasn’t real anymore?

“Charles, you ready?” Charlotte asked, coming into the kitchen as she pulled on a long great coat over a soft green turtleneck. 

“Always, darling,” Charles smiled back. 

“Look after yourself sweet pea,” Marie whispered, kissing Charles’ cheek again and patting him lightly. “You are so incredibly loved, my darling.”

“I love you Marie,” Charles said as Charlotte fling her arms around him from behind, “Yeah love you too you idiot.”

“You better,” Charlotte grinned.

“Come on, this way,” she said, tugging his hand as they climbed out of the taxi and towards the cafe that Jamie worked in. 

Charlotte’s hand was shaking slightly in his, and as they walked in, Charles automatically waved to Jamie behind the bar as Charlotte looked around. 

“Okay quick talk,” Charlotte said, spinning them so that Charles had his back to the only other people in the cafe and holding his elbows, “I’m going to introduce you to two people. You are going to behave. You’re not going to flirt, you’re not going to make inappropriate comments, you’re not going to mention the fashion fails of 2017. You’re going to be _nice_ and not give them the third degree, okay?”

“You’re kinda worrying me now,” Charles told her and Charlotte gave him a serious look. 

“Charles I’m trying to be serious. Please. Behave yourself.”

“And you’re still worrying me. Charlotte, what the fuck is going on?”

Charlotte took a deep breath and turned them back around, walking Charles over to where two girls were sat together. 

“Cate, Dilara, this is Charles,” Charlotte said and both the girls stood up. 

Charles looked between the three of them and waved, still absolutely baffled as to what was going on. 

“Hi, Charles,” the taller one, Cate, said as she stood up. 

“Hey,” Charles nodded. “Do you want a drink, Char?”

“Just get the normal,” Charlotte agreed as she took her coat off and kissed both girls on the cheek. 

Charles stared at them as he stood at the bar waiting for Jamie to finish making both he and Charlotte a Chaotic Special. 

“So who are they?” Jamie asked.

“Cate and Dilara. Absolutely no idea who they are.”

“Charlotte seems like she knows them.”

“Yeah.”

“You being jealous?” Jamie asked when he noticed Charles’ short tone.  
“Dunno. Maybe. Just,” Charles sighed and turned back to Jamie as he rest his elbows on the bar and scrubbed his hands over his face, “She clearly knows them really well, and they don’t go Forests, so like, who are they and why did she tell me to behave? I dunno, am I being sensitive about this? I’ve got no idea who those girls are, she’s not mentioned anything about them, and she’s telling me how to behave like I’ve got no basic human decency in me. Is she embarrassed of me or does she not trust me…?”

“I think they’re just really important people to her and she’s worried. You’re her best friend and she knows if you really don’t like them, then they’re not good people for her. I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t trust you, but it’s the same kind of thing about Max not telling you he’d been crushing on Dan. If you say that something is wrong, then you’re probably right and sometimes it’s safer not to know because then you can have the plausible deniability of believing they’re good people, I guess,” Jamie shrugged and Charles nodded. 

He looked over to the three girls and smiled at the way that Dilara, the quieter looking one with dark hair, was pushing Charlotte’s hair behind her ear. There was a gentle smile on both of their faces as they looked at each other, both of them lost in the world of each other’s eyes. 

“They’re the girls she went on a date with,” Charles realised. “That’s why she told me to behave because she doesn’t trust me with them.”

“Don’t take it personally, Max said the same.”

“Yeah and then my brother called me unlovable and also had panic attacks and refused to talk to me because he thought I was a bad enough person to try and take his boyfriend from him. Why the fuck do people not trust me? I’m not a fucking homewrecker on purpose, Jamie.” Charles took a shaky breath and felt the tears building up. “I need some air, tell Charlotte I’m outside.”

Before Jamie could say anything, Charles quickly threw himself out of the cafe and sat down on some seating, pulling his feet up onto the chair and burying his face in his knees. 

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Charles tapped through the contacts until he could find Max’s number and called him instantly. 

_“What’s up?”_ Max said the second he answered. 

Charles was quietly crying, tears streaming too fast down his face to reply to him. 

_“Charles, what’s wrong? Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong? Do you want me to come and get you?”_

“Do you hate me?” He whispered through his tears. 

_“No? Charles, what the fuck, no! Of course I don’t hate you.”_

“But what about Dan? Like when you thought I would take him. Why did you think I’d do that?”

Max sighed down the phone. They’d never really talked about this aside from that initial conversation and bringing it up when everyone found out about what Mick had done to Max. 

_“Charles, no offence, but you were literally the sluttiest I’ve ever met last year. It’s not a bad thing, but Dan’s my first boyfriend, he’s the first guy that’s ever paid attention to me. I panicked, Charles. That’s what I do. It’s how my brain works. I see you, the boy that everyone thinks is perfect, talking with the guy that I’m falling for and I automatically think that if anyone has a choice between us, they’re not going to pick me. It’s nothing against you, but you do that. People pick you. People want you. People don’t like me. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I worried. I always worry.”_

“But why does everyone think that’s all I ever do? If I know someone’s with someone I don’t try it on with them.”

_“I know. And Charlotte knows that. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Has something been mentioned about those girls she was going on a date with?”_

“I’m literally meant to be meeting them right now. And before I got chance, Charlotte told me to behave and not flirt and all that stuff, and I don’t know, I think…”

_“You think people don’t trust you.”_

Charles sniffed through some tears and nodded before realising Max couldn’t see him, “Yeah. I don’t want to be like that.”

_“You’re not **like that**. You’re not a bad person. You made mistakes, but you wouldn’t do it intentionally.”_

“So why doesn’t Charlotte trust me?”

_“I’m sure she does. But, she worries too. It’s not just that she’s got a girlfriend, but she’s got two. It’s not something she’d know what to expect with and she’s probably panicking and overcompensating. You need to talk to her, alright?”_

“What if she doesn’t trust me?”

_“Charlotte trusts you more than anyone on this planet, Charles. It’s going to be alright.”_

“Yeah I guess.”

_“Talk to her, you dumb twat, alright? If this was me, you’d be telling me to talk.”_

“I know.”

 _“You gonna be alright?”_ Max asked and Charles took a deep breath as he brushed his tears away. 

“Yeah I’ll be alright. Sorry if I worried you.”

_“Nah you’re alright. I’m just at Dan’s helping him figure out what he needs to pack, so if you need me, just call me back, alright? I’m not doing anything important.”_

“Thanks, Max.”

_“Don’t worry about it, i’ll see you later.”_

Charles sat there for a little while longer, head still buried in his knees as he took deep breaths to try and calm himself down. 

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, sitting down beside Charles. 

“Just go inside Charlotte, it’s fine.”

“I’m not going to leave you sitting here crying on your own, Charles.”

“Just go, Charlotte.”

“No,” she stubbornly said, “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Charles brought his leg down and bounced it incessantly as he scrubbed at his eyes. 

“Are those the girls you went on a date with?”

“Yes,” Charlotte answered.

“Why am I here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you want me to meet them? Or are you just doing it ‘cause I said I wanted to come on the date with you?”

“Of course I want you to meet them. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t.”

Charles looked across at Charlotte through bleary eyes, finding confusion echoing back.

“So why don’t you trust me with them?”

“I do trust you!”

“You trust me that much that you automatically assumed I was going to flirt with them and drag all the attention onto me, yeah? You think I’m incapable of acting like a normal fucking person?”

“Don’t be a bitch. That’s not what happened. I told you not to flirt because Dilara will freak out. She’s still trying to figure herself out and I worried, alright? Charles, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never dated two people at once and I’m scared and I’m worried and I still think they’re going to run off together into the sunset without me. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I’m scared and I know that you’re brilliant and you’ll try and take the attention onto yourself if you see one of us struggling, but I want them to feel comfortable too and it’s not your fault, I’m just scared.”

“But why didn’t you just tell me that? We were in the car for fifteen minutes, you could’ve told me then! Not wait until we’re fucking in front of them!” Charles argued back.

“Because I panicked! I fucking panicked!”

“About which bit?!”

“You being a fucking flirt, Charles! The fact that you can never just fucking talk to a person. _Every time_ there’s something to do with you flirting, or you trying to get people to pay attention to you, or you bragging about sleeping around! And I don’t care but, Jesus, Charles you don’t set the best expectations and it’s no one’s fault but your own!”

There was a moment of silence where Charles and Charlotte simply stared at each other, neither of them moving as buses sounded their horns, birds flew overhead and children screamed as they ran down the street.

“Charles I’m sorry,” Charlotte said, regret evident in her eyes.

Charles didn’t say anything. 

He couldn’t say anything.

The girl that he loved and adored more than anything had just taken the one bit of trust that he had still surviving and crumpled it up beneath her words.

Charles stood up and walked back into the coffee shop.

“Hi girls,” Charles said, holding his hand out for Cate to shake before shaking Dilara’s too, “I’m Charles. Sorry to be shooting off but my brain isn’t having fun right now and I need to go home. I’m really sorry, you seem like lovely girls but I need to go.”

“Charles don’t-“ Charlotte said, her voice cracking.

“Maybe I’ll meet you another time, ladies,” Charles said, ignoring Charlotte. 

“Do you want a lift home, darling?” Cate asked and Charles shook his head as he laughed through his few tears.

“I’ll be alright. I’m gonna call my brother. I’ll see you later.”

“Charles,” Jamie called out and Charles turned to him, “Come and sit in the back. Max is on his way.”

Charles nodded shakily and turned to follow Jamie, pulling his hand free from Charlotte’s when she tried to grab him to stop him and ignoring the way that one of the girls told Charlotte to let him be. 

Jamie followed him, wrapping Charles in his arms as he sobbed on his shoulder. They were sat on a small set of chairs, one of Jamie’s co-workers gladly taking over as Jamie held Charles tight. 

“Why does it hurt more arguing with her than it did when Pierre told me I’m fucked up?” Charles sobbed and Jamie simply brushed his hair off head.

“Because you trust Charlotte. You didn’t trust Pierre yet. She’s like Max. She’s your best friend. She means the world to you. And you argued. Of course it’s going to hurt so much more. At least with Pierre you didn’t have the history. Charlotte means the world to you, kiddo,” Jamie explained softly.

“I hate it.”

“I know, kid, it’ll be alright soon. Max is on his way and you can go and hang out with the horny boys.”

Charles laughed through his sobs and tightened his grip on Jamie. 

Fucking hell this hurt...

**— Thursday 10th September 2020 —**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 9:09   
Are you doing anything today   
  
I’m going grocery shopping but other than that no   
  
Are you going by yourself   
  
Yeah?   
  
Can I come with you   
  
Are you okay?   
  
Not really   
  
Kinda just wanna talk to someone   
  
Yeah of course. Do you know the Sainsbury’s near the train station?   
  
Yeah   
  
Meet me there   
  
Okay   
  
Thank you   
  
No problem x   
  


Charles stood outside his Dad’s home office, listening as he heard him talking on the phone. He wasn’t in the office for some reason today whereas Kimi was at work, meaning that with Dan and Max off gallivanting and Valtteri at Lewis’, there was only one person that could drop him off. 

He could’ve got the bus but that was for peasants. 

Also he had no change and he’d lost his Oyster card to pay for the bus and his Dad had clocked on about him using the work Uber pool, but that’s just in the details. 

Carefully, Charles knocked on the door and pushed it open, poking his head through when he saw Seb was on the phone. 

“I’ll wait,” Charles mouthed at him when Seb gave him a look that said ‘one sec’. 

Charles wandered into the office and sat down on a chair, swinging on it slightly as he pulled the hood of his jumper up and waited for his Dad to finish the call. 

“Right, Charles, what’s up?” Seb asked and Charles sighed. 

“Can you drop me off in town? I’m meeting Pierre.”

“Why aren’t you meeting Charlotte?”

“I’m not talking to her at the minute,” Charles quietly admitted. After Max and Dan had picked him up, Charles had silently gone to his room and sat on the floor for hours drawing and didn’t talk to anyone about what had happened. He’d ended up drawing a picture of Max and Daniel that he planned on giving Dan for Max and his anniversary in a month, and actually, he was pretty proud of it. At least it would be something that Dan could keep at his uni halls for when he missed Max. 

Charlotte had text him a few times and even called Daniel to try and get Charles to listen however after Daniel had told her that Charles needed some time on his own, she’d left him alone. 

“What’s happened?”

“We kinda fell out the other day. I’m probably being petty but I dunno, I’m just sad I guess.”

“Do you want to talk to Ada?”

“Nah,” Charles said, shaking his head, “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course you can, baby,” Seb told him, pushing his chair away from his desk and coming around to wrap Charles up in his arms. 

Charles clutched on tightly to Seb, his fingers digging in to Seb’s shoulders as he screwed his eyes shut to try and keep the tears at bay. 

“Whatever has happened, you two will sort it. It’s natural to have arguments with the people you love, to disagree and fall out and need some time away from them. You’ll be alright though. You and Charlotte will sort it out.”

“What if we don’t, Dad? What if, what if I’ve lost her too?” Charles asked, looking at Seb fearfully. 

“You won’t have lost her, Charles. You had an argument. Max and Dan argue sometimes, they still love each other. You’ll be okay.”

“But this is different. She’s got girlfriends now. I’m just a friend. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Charlotte is always going to need you, kiddo. You had an argument, it’s normal. She’s your gal, isn’t she? Just because she’s got some girlfriends it doesn’t mean that she’s going to forget about you. Do they go Forests?”

Charles shook his head, “She met them at the art thing the other week, when I dove off to get us drinks. Cate’s a first year uni student and Dilara, I don’t know what she’s doing but she’s, um, her Dad works at the German Embassy, I dunno what he does but he works there apparently. So Dilara and her family moved here like two years ago, I think Charlotte said from Munich.”

“It’s something new. She’s worried, is this her first girlfriends?”

“Nah she dated, I can’t think of her fucking name but she dated someone in year 10, and then she dated Sophia I think, back end of year 11 but they split up over summer.”

“And she never ditched you before then, did she? So she’s not going to do it now.”

Charles shrugged and scrubbed his hands across his face. 

“I have no idea, Dad. Honestly. I’m sad about it all but I guess it’s kinda what I deserve, innit? She doesn’t need me. I’m messy fucking person.”

“And you’re her _best friend_. She’s adored you for the last few years, been with you through everything this last year. Charlotte knows that you’re a messy person, we all do, you’re still a good person though, Charles. She’s not going anywhere, kiddo.”

“I guess. I don’t want to lose her, Dad.”

“You won’t,” Seb reassured him, kissing his forehead, “You’ll sort it out, I know you will.”

By the time Seb drove Charles into town, a mere five minute drive in the Ferrari because his Dad was nothing if not a show off (it was times like this that Charles really questioned how his Dad and himself weren’t biologically related because _holy shit_ they were really alike), he’d toyed with texting Charlotte numerous times. 

This wasn’t a texting solution though. Charles would have to go and see her and talk to her in person. 

_This_ was exactly why Charles didn’t get emotionally connected to people. Then he couldn’t be hurt.

“Thanks, Dad,” Charles said as he climbed out of the Ferrari, rolling his eyes when he realised that numerous people were staring at him and his Dad.

God this was like when he’d been a kid and all the mums on the school run used to thirst after his Dad. 

This was so weird...

Pierre was stood to one side and waved at Charles when he shut the car door. The Ferrari roared to life beside him and Charles sighed as he watched his Dad drive off.

Fucking show off

“Hey, how are you?” Pierre asked, waiting for Charles to put his hand up before he gave him the high five of greeting. 

“Not great. Kinda sad. I’m trying to be alright though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Charles took the trolley and started following after Pierre, pushing it down the aisles as Pierre searched for stuff.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal first?” Charles said.

“Of course.”

“You know how you said that you never really had chance to make friends because of constantly moving, how did you deal with that? Because I kinda realised that I’ve never really had _friends_. Like don’t take this as me being big-headed, but pretty much since we moved to England, I was always just the popular kid. I was adorable, then I was hot. And people just wanted to be in my bed. I never had a _friend_.”

“I thought Charlotte was your friend.”

“Yeah, but I need you to pretend she doesn’t exist for a second.”

Pierre sighed and looked over some ingredients in something before putting it in the trolley.

“I think it’s that you get used to being alone. I always hung out with people in the school yard and I guess I had friends but I knew that I couldn’t get attached. It’s different now. I know I’m staying here until the end of year 13 so I’m making more effort to _know_ people.”

“But did you ever have a friend and losing them hurt?”

“Oh yeah, of course. There was a guy I was mates with when I was thirteen I think, something like that. And losing him hurt because he was like a brother. I was more mad at my Papa because I hated that I had to keep moving, especially when I made that friend because I still didn’t really understand what was going on at that age.”

“I don’t know if I’ve fucked everything up with Charlotte,” Charles explained, “That’s why I was asking. Charlotte’s the only _friend_ I’ve ever had who isn’t using me for ulterior purposes. Like Antonio and that, we were mates because I used to know everyone and so could get us into all the parties and stuff. But with Char, it was all the other stuff too. Hanging out and doing work, or talking about girls, or watching a movie and shitposting on Instagram. She’s the only person I’ve ever had that with that’s not related to me, and now I’ve messed it all up.”

“What happened?” Pierre gently asked and Charles couldn’t refrain from babbling it all out to him. 

He told him everything. How Charles had threatened a girl for Charlotte, vanished for ten minutes only to find out she’d been chatted up to by two girls, how she’d had a breakdown over dating them and was now calling Charles out for being a flirt before he’d even had chance to say a proper hello to them. 

It’s not the fact that Charles has an issue with being seen as a flirt. He knew he was. Even throughout this whole touch-aversion stuff and not wanting to _be_ with someone, he’d not stopped flirting with people. He didn’t always want the attention but he couldn’t just switch it off. Flirting made him feel normal. And to hear Charlotte have an issue with it simply because she didn’t trust Charles to behave around the people that were important to her hurt.

He barely ever even flirted with Daniel. Max was eternally paranoid about Daniel ditching him, and Charles knew that, hence why he didn’t flirt with his brother’s boyfriend. He only ever did it when it was obvious Charles was joking and Daniel went over the top with ‘cute’ nicknames for Charles. 

_He wasn’t a bad person_ and he was tired of being seen as one.

“Have you spoken to Charlotte since?” Pierre asked.

“No. I know I should’ve but I basically spent all day yesterday in my room on my own. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just drew some stuff.”

“Are you going to talk to her before school starts again?”

“Do you think I should?”

“I think you both need to sit down and talk, yeah. You’re both worried about essentially the same issue and you’re both worried about each other. Charlotte loves you. She’s not going to let go of you. You mean the world to her.”

“My Dad said that too. But now I’ve managed to convince myself that she’s only still friends with me because she’s feels sorry for me. Which I know logically isn’t true but my brain doesn’t like logic. It likes trauma.”

Pierre gave him a sad smile as he put some more stuff in the trolley, “I get that. But I think what you have to remember too is that Charlotte loves and adores you. She wouldn’t be listening to you talk about your Mum or be awake with you at 4am or cuddle in your bed because you need someone if she didn’t.”

“I guess. I miss her.”

“I know. It’s understandable. I think you should talk with her though.”

Charles didn’t say anything, simply followed silently after Pierre. Pierre seemed to tell that Charles wasn’t wanting to talk about it for much longer and changed the subject, telling him about some new pastry that his Papa had been making lately. 

There was something about the quiet monotonous tone of Pierre’s voice that soothed part of his mind, removing the sense of worry and anxiety and giving him something else to think about. He couldn’t worry about Charlotte hating him when instead he was thinking about tartes aux fruits. 

He didn’t normally like desserts that had fruit in them, in Charles’ honest opinion he felt as though they should be illegal, however Pierre made it sound fucking magical and Charles was seriously questioning how rude it would be to turn up on Pierre’s doorstep and beg for treats from Pierre’s Papa. 

“Do you want a hand carrying this stuff home by the way?” Charles asked as they started packing the bags of shopping at the checkout.

“No!” Pierre quickly answered, “I mean, no thanks. No, it’s alright. It’s not far.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind-”

“It’s fine, Charles. I can carry them.”

“I can help-”

“Charles, it’s fine, I can do it.”

There was something about the sharp tone of Pierre’s voice that Charles understood meant he needed to stop offering. Whatever it was, Pierre didn’t need him.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Charles murmured, putting the last of the items in the bag as Pierre paid. 

“You didn’t,” Pierre reassured him. “Honestly. It’s fine though. I normally carry them home so it’s fine.”

“Thank you for letting me come with you.”

“Would you have spent all day in bed otherwise?” 

“Probably,” Charles nodded. “Probably gone and bug Max for a bit. But probably just want to spend all day crying instead so thanks for letting me come with you and distract myself.”

“That’s alright.” Pierre smiled at him as he took the few bags of shopping and Charles tried to ignore the way that Pierre’s arm muscles strained under the weight.

_Holy shit_

No. 

No. 

No looking. 

Friends. 

That’s what you need, Charles.

“You going to be alright for the rest of the day?” Pierre asked.

“Don’t really have much choice. I’m going to go and see Isä, see if he’s got anything fun that he needs drawing up ‘cause I don’t want to go home right now. Dad’s at home but he’s working, Max is off with Dan, Valtteri’s at Lewis’. Normally I’d go to Charlotte’s but, I think I still need to get my head straight.”

“Well you know where I am if you need me. I’ll always be on the other end of the phone.”

“I actually might give Lando and that lot a bell, see if they wanna go on campaign on COD, you wanna join?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Pierre smiled and Charles reached out to pat his shoulder. 

He would’ve given Pierre a high-five again or even shook his hand, he was ignoring the part of his mind that told him he could’ve just pressed a kiss to Pierre’s cheek, and patted his shoulder as a form of thank you instead. 

“Cool. I’ll drop you a text in like an hour, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah sounds great.” Pierre’s eyes trailed over Charles’ face, lingering on his lips for a minute. Charles could feel his cheeks burning, flushing heavily under Pierre’s gaze and let out a sigh. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Charles nodded, turning on his heel and trying not to sprint away as his heart started beating faster and a warm feeling spread through his heart. 

Fucking hell…

He really was falling for him… wasn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao Charles and Charlotte fighting? chaos
> 
> kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore💙


	13. OMG What’s Happening - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls be proud of me for not taking 3 weeks to post a new update
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> **CW: underage drinking**

**— Saturday 12th September 2020 —**

“NO! GEOOOOOOORGE!” Alex screamed down the mic as Charles erupted into laughter. Max was sat beside him, both of them with tears streaming down their faces at George and Alex screaming at each other when George, yet again, drove his tractor into Alex’s and sent him flying off the track. 

They were meant to be playing the F1 game, however SOMEONE (Max) has thrown a tantrum and so they instead were playing lawn mower racing. It had very quickly descended into chaos with the twins arguing over who was p6 and who was p7 at lights out, and George repeatedly running his boyfriend off the track. Lando was currently p1, which no one knew how _that_ had happened, whilst Charles’ tractor was buried in a tyre wall from how hard he was laughing. 

He hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. 

It felt as thought each pull of laughter was coming from the core of his soul, being dragged up through the darkness and the heaviness of the hatred he felt towards himself and dancing away from him as though he was as light as a cloud. 

He’d woken up that morning at 4am, climbed into bed alongside Max and Daniel after suffering from a horrific nightmare about Max being held hostage again and sat watching his brother’s rising and falling chest. Daniel had had his arm around Max’s waist whilst Max held Charles’ hand, giving him the comfort he needed as Max slept. 

They’d both sat awake with him for a while, Max holding Charles tight as he begged Max not to leave him and kissed his hair. Daniel hadn’t said anything, simply frowned as Charles mumbled into Max’s shoulder about not letting him go. 

Eventually, Charles had nudged Max back down, told him to get some sleep and Charles had lay there the entire time scrolling social media. Max had woken up a couple of times and smiled when he saw Charles still there beside him before falling asleep again. 

When Daniel had left to go to football training, he kissed Max’s cheek and ruffled Charles’ hair, not even protesting when Charles punched him in the stomach for messing his hair up. 

There was something in his eyes that Charles didn’t like the look of. 

It was an almost unnerving sense of distrust.

Max hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he didn’t care.

It worried Charles.

At least that was until he realised where he’d seen that look on Daniel before.

He’d only ever seen it on Daniel’s face when something had been alluded to about the twins pre-adoption life.

And with the other boys distracted and both Max and Charles’ mics muted, Charles decided to ask Max about it. 

They were sat on the floor in Max’s bedroom, the TV angled down off the wall with their PlayStation controllers in hand, watching as Lando raced against randomers to try and win with George and Alex still arguing in the background. 

“Can I ask you something?” Charles said.

“Hmm? Sure what’s up?” Max’s eyes were still fixed on the tv with a stupid smile on his face, smiling at the antics of the boys that had become Max’s closest friends.

“Have you ever told Dan anything about Mum?”

There was a moment in which the yelling of the boys fell to the side, when Max’s breathing stopped, when the only sound was the clock ticking ominously in the background as though reminding them that time was ticking. They were getting older. They were moving further away from those times as a child. Max sighed heavily before he looked at Charles properly.

“No,” Max admitted, “And I don’t know if I ever will. I’ve spoken to him about what happened when I was fifteen and that fucked him up enough. What happened with her, I dunno, I guess he doesn’t need to know. It doesn’t affect us in the same way.”

“Apart from the fact that Dan is moving next Saturday and the chances of your separation anxiety-“

“Charles, I’m okay. I promise. Daniel knows enough about me without needing to know about Mum too. He’s never asked and I don’t plan on telling him, okay? What’s brought this on anyway?”

“Dan looked at you all shifty this morning when I was telling you about my nightmare, and it had me thinking. Especially because of Pierre’s Mum.”

“Yeah but it’s different with me and Dan. Dan knows almost everything about me. And I trust him implicitly. But he also doesn’t need to know about Mum. We’re not going to Holland, we’re not having anything to do with her, he doesn’t need to know. With Pierre, it’s different because he at least knows that parents can be shitty. All Dan knows is that parents divorcing is fucking painful.”

Charles had to admit there was something logical about what Max had said. 

Daniel didn’t know what it was like to be detested by your own biology, to feel raw hatred for existing and being used as a pawn and tool against others. Not that Charles really remembered it, but he knew he’d experienced something _traumatising_ and Pierre knew that feeling too. The most hurt Daniel could be was being told a second hand account of something sad happening. He’d never fully understand it. He still had parents that loved and adored him no matter what. 

He couldn’t understand what the twins or Pierre had gone through. Not properly.

Charles scrubbed at his eyes as he explained, “I feel like I have to tell Pierre.”

“Why do you _have_ to?”

“Because Charlotte knows.”

“So?”

“Max, my best friend knows and the guy I’m falling for with the same messy parentage-”

“This is different, Charles. You don’t fucking remember it. You know the bare minimum that you do because that’s your brain trying to save you. Please, you don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to tell him anything. I’ve not told Daniel but I’m not comfortable opening up about it. There’s been so many times that I’ve nearly said something before reminding myself that that little three year old boy doesn’t matter to me as a nearly eighteen year old. What matters is my happiness, and talking about Mum doesn’t make me happy. You have to protect yourself and you don’t owe people shit, Charles. We made the decision to have Dad get a new restraining order in place because we don’t want shit to do with her. So why the hell do we owe anyone an explanation about what our lives were like before Dad and Isä brought us home?”

“But it’s different. I know what you mean but I want to understand Pierre. All this fall out with Charlotte, it made me realise that I hate being alone. I hate it. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be sad anymore, Max,” Charles’ voice cracked as he looked at Max, a broken smile decorated his lips. “I don’t want to be sad.”

Charles had tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at Max, cheeks hurting under the strain of trying to smile through the pain. 

He couldn’t do it anymore. 

He couldn’t hide it.

Everything hurt. 

It was as though the admission that he didn’t want to keep letting the sadness take over meant that it all poured over the edge in a violent spiral that left him gagging for breath and screaming under the weight of drowning.

Only he couldn’t scream.

And he didn’t want to breathe either. 

“Lads, we’re gonna go, something’s come up,” Max muttered into his mic and pulled his and Charles’ headsets off, throwing them somewhere and turning the PlayStation off as he dragged Charles into his arms. Max fell backwards with Charles falling on top of him, the two of them colliding heavily as Charles silently sobbed. 

There wasn’t even anything left in him that meant he could scream and yell and beat at Max. 

It was as though he was devoid of happiness.

“You need to talk to Charlotte, Charles. You really do. I know you’re upset because of what she said but she loves you. You love her.”

“She doesn’t need me anymore.”

“Yes, she does!” Max argued, “You need each other. You’re _best friends_ , Charles.”

“I don’t want to lose her,” Charles whimpered and looked up at Max. 

“You’re not going to. You need to _talk_ , you know you do. It’s been nearly a week and you’re both suffering with worrying about each other. Charlotte’s phoned Daniel quite a few times and I spoke to her the other day and she’s really cut up about it and she wants to apologise but she wants you to be ready.”

Charles shook his head minutely and put it back down on Max’s shoulder. 

Charlotte wouldn’t want him

She could do better than him

He was nothing 

He was just a fucking flirt. Just a mess. Just a homewrecker. He couldn’t be trusted and he couldn’t be given responsibility because he just fucked everything up. 

“Right, no, I’m not dealing with this,” Max muttered, pushing Charles off him and standing up. He was looking down at Charles and sighed. “Come on, asshole.”

“What?”

Max rolled his eyes and grabbed Charles, pulling him up and tugging him after him down the stairs. 

“Shoes,” Max ordered. 

Wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper, Charles automatically followed Max’s instructions and slid his feet into his Nikes as Max did the same. He couldn’t help but smile when he realised he and Max were wearing matching Air Force 1s. 

They’d never got mistaken for each other growing up due to being fraternal twins, however whenever they’d been dressed the same, it forever made the tiny twins giggle. It was funny to him that despite going through years of not wanting to be compared to Max, there was still something comforting about looking like Max, almost as though it gave him some comfort and made him feel like he truly existed. 

Existing was fucking difficult…

Max kept hold of Charles as they walked, not that Charles knew where they were going. For all Charles knew, Max very well could be taking him to the river to chuck him in it. Not that he would’ve blamed him. At this point, Charles would fucking accept it.

Wow spiralling was fun. 

If Charles had looked up just _once_ on his walk with Max, he would’ve realised where they were going.

“Hey Valentine. Is your knobhead sister in?” Max said before Charles realised Max had even knocked on the door.

“She’s in her room, go on up,” Valentine nodded and Charles dug his heels in, grabbing hold of the door frame with both hands when Max tried to drag him in.

“No! No! I told you-”

“You cried because you miss her you don’t get an opinion!” Max shouted back as he grabbed Charles around the waist and physically lifted him into the house.

When the _fuck_ had Max got muscles?

Charles refused to consider that they might be from working out with Dan and/or his sex like. There were some things that a brother didn’t need to know.

“Charlotte! Come here!” Valentine yelled when Max struggled to get Charles in the house. “Drag him in there.” Valentine nodded her head towards the living room as she went upstairs to force her sister downstairs quicker.

“I fucking hate you,” Charles told Max.

“I know. That’s why we’re related.”

“Valentine! Get out of my room!” Charlotte was heard yelling before the sound of thundering footsteps chased over their heads and Valentine shot into the front room with Charlotte close after her. “Valentine! Give me my phone you little bitch!”

Valentine threw Charlotte’s phone so it landed on Charles and Charlotte went stock still when she realised who was sat on their sofa.

“Oh.”

“Hi,” Charles whispered, looking at her.

“Hi.”

There was a beat of silence where neither of them moved and instead stared at each other. 

For a moment, Charles considered if he even knew what he wanted. 

He wanted to hug Charlotte tight and never let her go. He wanted to scream and yell and cry and get all his worthlessness feelings out. 

And yet really, all he wanted was that fucking dark voice in his head that told him he wasn’t worthy of having friends and people that cared about him to vanish. 

Taking a deep breath, Charles pushed himself out of Max’s hold and grabbed Charlotte to pull her into him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her neck and holding her tight.

“It’s my fault,” She replied. “I didn’t mean it. Not the way I said it. It’s not your fault at all. I love you, you little whore, that’s why I love you, I’m so sorry for what I said.”

Her voice was muffled where she pressed it into Charles’ chest, her arms tight on him as though she was worried to even let him breathe in case he let go and never returned. 

“I’m so sorry, Charles, honestly. I’m so sorry. I regret what I said so much, it wasn’t meant to come out like I was blaming you for anything, I know it’s not your fault, I know what you’re like as a person, I know you don’t intentionally split people up. Dilara and Cate were both really worried about you. I was terrified. I couldn’t sleep. I phoned Dan-”

“I know,” Charles whispered.

“Did he tell you what I said?” 

There was something in Charlotte’s voice that worried Charles, a sense of urgency almost and Charles pulled away to force her to look at him.

“No.”

“I told him to not let you die.”

“Charlotte,” Charles breathed, closing his eyes again and pulling Charlotte into him, tears falling as the dark voice in his head went quieter at the knowledge that Charlotte did care about him.

She wouldn’t want him to stay alive if she didn’t. 

“I know. I just panicked a lot. I felt really guilty and I didn’t want to push you to talk to me if you weren’t ready but I saw your face and I’ve not seen that look in your eyes for a long time and I was terrified, Charlie. I love you,” Charlotte said and pulled back to cup his jaw to force him to look at her even though he already was. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I love you so fucking much and you are my best friend and my boy and my brother and the only boy I’d ever entertain the thought of marrying. I love you, Charles. Always. No matter whether you are a slut or a nun. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know you didn’t mean it,” Charles murmured. “I’m sorry-”

“No. No you don’t have to apologise. I worded it wrong, I’m sorry, and I should’ve thought about it. You were right. I should’ve spoken to you before we got there. And I didn’t, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry. I was being selfish. I’d really like you to meet Cate and Dilara again, properly. Dilara’s quiet, she’s very nervous, she’s kind of like Max. Cate is very much like Dan and she’s also the perfect kind of girl for you, you’ll love her.”

“But not romantically. The only girl I’ll love is you. I’m sorry, Char. I should’ve spoken to you too.”

“The dumb bitch energy is rampant lately,” Charlotte agreed. 

“Can you stop being a depressed little bastard now?” Max asked in a bored tone. When Charles looked up, however, he saw the fond smile on Max’s face and the way that he looked relieved. He hadn’t realised his brother had been worrying about him. It made sense though, especially if Charlotte had mentioned to Daniel about keeping an eye on Charles. Max probably would’ve been told to do the same by extension, and frankly Charles was more than grateful for the idiotic best friend and idiotic brother that he loved. 

People cared about him. 

People loved him. 

He wasn’t fighting the war alone. 

“I’ll stop being a depressed little bastard when you stop being a horny little shit,” Charles countered, pointedly staring at the love bites on Max’s neck that Daniel had left before and the fact that he was wearing Daniel’s jumper again. 

Daniel Ricciardo was never not a possessive horny bastard for Max. 

It was kinda cute how in love with each other Max and Daniel were, but at the same time, there was only so many times Charles needed to see Max stick his tongue down Daniel’s throat or Daniel sliding his hands down Max’s trousers, you know? 

There were some things a brother didn’t need to see. 

“Can we go out tonight? Me and you? I want a date night,” Charlotte asked and Charles nodded.

“Sure. Get dressed up and we’ll have date night.”

“I’ll tell Dan that he’s on chauffeur duties,” Max told them both. 

“I love your boyfriend,” Charles sighed lovingly.

“No, you don’t,” Max warned him, eyebrow raising as the rest of his face went blank. 

“Possessive bastard,” Charles said with a grin as he tried to make himself feel okay.

Max rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, “I’m going home.”

“I’ll come back with you. I still need to beat George at Lawn Mowers,” Charles agreed. “I’ll see you later?” 

Charlotte nodded and hugged Charles tightly again.

“I love you. Even when I act like a dumb idiot. You’re my favourite whore forever and always.”

Laughing softly, Charles said “I love you too. I want big dumb whore energy tonight, okay? We’re going all out.”

“I’ll even get my ankles on show for you baby,” Charlotte winked.

“Y’all need Jesus,” Max muttered.

“And you need to stop getting your boyfriend to fuck you against the wall we share but we can’t all have what we want, can we Maximus?” Charles quipped back.

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Boys, boys, boys, stop fighting,” Valentine interrupted and the twins looked at her. “The only person we should be fighting is Boris Johnson, okay? That man? A mess. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.”

“Are you high?” Charlotte asked as Valentine stared at them all.

“No. Just distracting you all. Now get out of my house.”

“Girl you don’t even pay rent.”

“Neither do you, posh girl, now get out of my house.”

“This is _Mom’s_ house, you don’t own it, you can’t kick me out.”

“I will own it when you’re dead.”

“Valentine!” Charlotte yelled as the twins made their escape.

“Sometimes I’m glad my little brother is only three minutes younger than me. Because at least when I punch you, Dad won’t be as angry,” Max said before taking off in a run when Charles took offence at, once again, being reminded that he is the baby of the house.

By the time they got home, Lando, George and Alex were still playing Lawn Mower simulator and Max and Charles slid back in like they’d never been gone.

“Aleeeebono!” Charles yelled down the mic.

“Haha Charlie! How you doing?” Alex asked back.

“All the better for hearing your dulcet tones my darling.”

“Put your dick away, Räikkönen-Vettel, he’s mine,” George’s voice cut through. Whereas before Charles would’ve pushed him to wind him up on purpose because he loved the _drama_ , now it was simply fun and Charles liked the difference.

Now it felt like he was having fun with friends, not just trying to find a way to sneak into their beds. 

“Oh Georgie, don’t worry, darling, there’s enough Charlie love to go around to you too, Prince George.”

“PRINCE GEORGE!” Lando yelled and erupted into laughter. It wasn’t particularly funny but Lando was easily amused and Charles wasn’t going to stop him laughing. There was something that pinged part of Charles’ brain in a way that made him feel like a video game character who just got an achievement unlock saying ‘you made someone laugh. +50 health points’. It was almost as though his brain was trying to reward him for being good…

What a weird sense of normality…

“You alright?” Max nudged him when he saw Charles slightly spaced out and Charles nodded. 

There was still a part of him that felt kind of unsettled and it wasn’t _fixed_ with Charlotte, but it was better. 

It was that same unsettled feeling he had with Pierre.

Pierre’s muscles lived rent-free in Charles’ head and he couldn’t stop imagining how they’d feel under his fingers. 

Still, either way, Charles was tired of holding grudges for the sake of it. Sure, he was still a petty ass little bitch and he loved arguing still, he was a younger sibling after all, but the big grudges over hating someone for something small? He was tired of it. 

He’d built his reputation on being a snarky, coquettish, self-centred little asshole who didn’t care about other people. You couldn’t care when everyone either wanted to fuck you or hate you. There were only two extremes with people’s reactions to Charles it seemed and he was fine with it.

What he didn’t like was when people accused him of doing shit on purpose when other people were the ones that should be held responsible for their behaviour.

School was going to be rough, Charles knew that. The new timetables dropped on Monday and Charles was ready for a fresh start. 

With everything.

He chose to ignore the part of his mind that chose to say ‘you could always date Pierre’.

He wasn’t ready.

Actually, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

**— Sunday 13th September 2020 —**

“Morning!” Seb yelled as he flung Charles’ bedroom door open.

“Oh Gott,” Charles moaned, rubbing his temple as he rolled over onto his front. He felt himself collide with Charlotte and a bottle of something clink beside him that threatened nausea to run through his stomach. 

“How are you, kiddos?!” Seb exclaimed and threw Charles’ bedroom curtains wide open as Charles and Charlotte groaned louder. “Bright and early kids! Time for breakfast!”

“Dad, please, go away,” Charles whimpered as he pressed his forehead into the carpet. 

“Hi Charles!” Max yelled and Charles didn’t stop the tears of _pain_ from escaping his eyes. “So how you doing?!”

“I want to fucking diiiiiiiiie,” Charles groaned again as Max burst into a loud laughter that had Charles cringing and Charlotte flip him off.

“That’s what you get for getting drunk you fucking idiots. God this is going to be fun,” Max replied.

“Max, I beg of you, please, be quiet. I can’t take it.”

“Awww is the baby hungover? Does the baby need a cuddle? Does the baby need some water?”

“Water please,” Charles whispered. He tried nodding his head however it caused him to gag and roll onto his side.

Yeah...

He was never drinking again...

“You owe Catherine fifty quid, Charles,” Seb told him and Charles shakily lifted his hand to give Seb a thumbs up.

It was nice that his lawyer gave him a discount for having to fetch his ass from the police station at 1am.

Not that Charles could entirely comprehend that right now. Everything was still rather foggy; his head was spinning and he had a headache to rival anything he’d ever experienced before.

God, he forgot how much hangovers _fucking hurt_.

His entire body felt like it was a stone, the pain of trying to push himself up and see Charlotte laying on Charles’ bedroom carpet too made last night seem like such a terrible decision. 

“You’re never going to drink again, are you?” Seb asked him and Charles huffed. 

“Probably will in about a month, let’s be honest, school’s starting back on Wednesday and I don’t plan on being sober.”

“You are not getting drunk before school, Charles.”

“Try me bitch,” Charles weakly argued. 

He definitely wouldn’t get drunk. Carole would crucify him. 

Still… 

Probably make English class a bit more manageable. 

**— Monday 14th September 2020 —**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 12:46   
Hey are you doing anything right now?   
  
**Today** 13:19   
sorry was in shower   
  
im not doing anything   
  
do u still need me   
  
I need to take some more pictures   
  
riiiiiight   
  
Please be my model again   
  
I THOUGHT YOUD NEVER ASK   
  
I love how into this you are   
  
darling this face was not made to be hidden behind the camera   
  
I should be in front of every camera   
  
You are the perfect model, can’t lie   
  
Is it okay if I come over to yours first?   
  
There’s a shot I have in mind and we need your place for it   
  
I love how ominous that sounds   
  
but yeah sure! Just come on by when ur ready. u got my address?   
  
Yep! See you soon :) x   
  


“OI!” Charles banged on Max’s bedroom door.

“FUCK OFF!”

“GET OFF YOUR BOYFRIEND’S DICK FOR TWO SECONDS YOU WHORE!”

There was a lot of scuffling around before Max flung his bedroom door open. 

“What?”

“Pierre’s coming over.”

“And you couldn’t just text me that?”

Charles smirked and shrugged, “Where’s the fun in that? I get to ruin your orgasm and I get to see Daniel Ricciardo half-naked. Piss you off and get personal memories for later, win-win for me.”

“Du bist so ein Depp,” Max muttered and Charles raised an eyebrow. 

“Careful, Max, don’t want Daniel to get too turned on by him not being able to understand you.”

“Go jump in front of a train.”

“Maybe later. But yeah, Pierre’s coming over. He needs some more photos doing so we’re probably going exploring later but I might also need to borrow Dan.”

“You’re not using my boyfriend.”

“Daniel, darling-”

“I’ll do anything for you, Tiny Chaos,” Daniel agreed before Charles could even ask. 

“You can get yourself off now,” Max warned him and Daniel simply grinned at him. 

“Don’t be naughty, Max.”

“And that is my fucking cue to jump in front of a train,” Charles announced as Daniel got a dark look in his eyes. 

Luckily, Charles was saved from any further awkwardness by the doorbell going and he ran off as he heard Daniel telling Max to ‘close the door and get back over here’. 

Yep nope

Charles would seriously rather throw himself in front of a train than deal with hearing his brother being a horny little bastard. 

It was still weird to Charles. 

Max had always been quiet, didn’t really like a lot of physical contact growing up and yet now he was being constantly paraded around as Daniel Ricciardo’s boyfriend and, whilst Charles was happy that Max was happy, it was still a bit weird. 

Pierre was stood awkwardly fidgeting on the doorstep when Charles pulled it open.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Good. Thank you so much for doing this,” Pierre said and tightened his fingers around the camera. 

“What’s your vision then? Where do we need to go?”

“Weird question, but do you know where your Dad’s keys are for his Ferrari?”

“Are you asking me to steal a Ferrari? Because I’m 100% down for that.”

“No,” Pierre laughed, “It’s just an idea I had and you’d look good doing it. Grab the keys and some sunglasses and we’ll see if we can do it.”

They made their way out to the Ferrari, Charles knowing full well that if Seb found out about what they were doing Charles was in for a swift murder. But still, he wasn’t going to _drive_ it. Just pose with it. 

He needed the attention. Don’t call him out for it. 

Also, if this happened to end in a swift murder, well, at least it wasn’t on him then. 

Not that he wanted to die anymore. But still. That feeling of guilt and responsibility not existing? Kinda nice.

Charles opened the door of the Ferrari and sat down on the edge of the seat as Pierre instructed, allowing the black jumper he was wearing to get slightly crumpled up.

“And as you climb out, start walking towards the door slowly and fix the jumper, yeah?” Pierre instructed and Charles nodded. “Don’t reach for the car.”

“I got you,” Charles agreed. 

Max and Daniel had ventured out of Max’s bedroom to stand on the doorstep and watch them, and when Pierre squatted down in front of Charles to be able to angle the camera up slightly, Charles instantly started grinning when he saw Max’s eyes bug wide and his jaw dropped with the realisation of just how toned Pierre was even when Daniel’s grip on Max’s waist tightened.

Admittedly, Pierre did look good. 

There was nothing fancy about how he was dressed. A simple white hoodie, black skinny jeans with rips at the knees and white trainers, his hair messy and stubble scratching at his cheeks (which Charles was dutifully ignoring - he refused to acknowledge right now how he had a thing for facial hair). 

He looked normal.

Charles liked normal....

Seeing Pierre was like a reset. A reminder that away from his private school world bubble, not everything was about designer outfits and partying until 3am four nights a week. 

Going out with Charlotte the night before had been fun. They’d gone into town, had dinner in a slightly well-off restaurant and Charles had flirted with the waiter well enough that he’d been willing to slide Charles a couple glasses of red wine before a bartender had sneaked them both Vodka and Coke when no one was watching. Aside from drinking bits of alcohol, especially on Valtteri’s birthday in Ibiza and what the waiters in the restaurant there had been willing to give him, he’d not really drank since everything started with Mick, with Charles surprised at how little he’d missed it. 

For a long time, his life had been ‘school-home-party-sex-hangover’ on repeat. For two years. Since the second he turned fifteen, it seemed like everyone at their school had decided Charles was old enough and thus had began his experimental whore phase. The drinking was just an added bonus. 

So much of the last two years of secondary school had been a blur. 

So much of his first year of sixth form was still causing blistering nightmares. He hadn’t told anyone yet that a recent one his brain had decided to conjure up had been replacing Mick with Max. Thankfully, the nightmares never got further than those initial weeks of beatings and verbal abuse, but it was enough to fuck with Charles’ head that any time he saw Max watching him, he couldn’t help but wonder if Max was thinking about the bruises on Charles’ body or the time that Max had punched him hard enough that Charles still felt the imprint of it sometimes. 

He didn’t often feel Mick’s hands on him, only when he was at his most scared did he. 

Max’s punch, however, combined with the absolute devastation in Max’s eyes at being called a freak by the one person that had always sworn to protect him was constantly flashing through his head. 

Max hadn’t even had that devastated look when _he’d_ made his big mistake. That time he just looked frustrated. 

Charles could deal with people being frustrated. Especially with him. He wasn’t easy to get along with. 

But Charlotte tried. And she’d succeeded. 

Lewis has kept chipping away. Charles had let him in.

Daniel had refused to let go of him.

It was funny to him how he’d always envisioned his life turning out as the ultimate bachelor, living in some high-rise penthouse apartment with a monochromatic colour-scheme with flashes of blue and red dotted around the place to give it some life as he travelled the globe promoting his fashion, was now transformed into thinking about some weirdly suburban life that involved a stupid French boy and a desire to make someone laugh. 

He’d always loved being the centre of attention.

With Pierre, it felt like he was on a pedestal purposefully. Only instead of him demanding attention, it was given freely and wisely. 

He wasn’t the intriguing but basic art piece anymore.

He was an intricate and complex sculpture that changed with each angle you looked at him.

Shit

That was it

That was what he was going to do for his final a-level art piece. 

The presentation of the evolution of the mind. 

How he was going to do it, he wasn’t sure. The brain wave only extended as far as figuring out the idea. He’d work out the complexity of it all later. 

It fit him though.

It would always fit him.

Something too optimistic and yet too dark. Too complicated and yet too surface level. 

No one understood Charles.

And this was the perfect way of making them understand.

They ended up going for a walk through their town, trying to find somewhere that best served Pierre’s creative itch. 

“So, you’ve sorted things with Charlotte then?” Pierre asked.

“I guess so. We went out on Saturday night which was nice.”

“Oh yeah I saw the picture on your Instagram. You looked good.”

Charles blushed a deep red dark enough to rival the polo shirt he’d changed into and didn’t look at Pierre, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Pierre.

There was a beat of slightly awkward silence in which Pierre tapped his fingers against the camera round his neck and Charles scrubbed his hands together. 

“Did you two do anything fun?” Pierre asked, trying to save the awkwardness. 

“We went on a ‘friend date’. Went into town and had some food, had way too much to drink. Both had hangovers the next day and cried in Dan’s car for like half an hour listening to 2012 bangers and screaming along when we made him take us to McDonalds.”

“The real question is what 2012 bangers were they?”

“Bit of One Direction, Charlotte then cried about them being split up so Dan refused to play them anymore, we had some Katy Perry thrown in there, tried some Carly Rae Jepson _‘Call Me Maybe’_. The absolute BOP of the night though, I don’t know if you’ll remember it or whether it was big in France or whatever, but it was by B.O.B, called Airplanes.”

“Oh my Goodness yes! That song was _the_ song back the day.”

“Exactly! It’s just as good as I remember it. I remember being at a school disco, I think it came out a couple of years after we moved to England and I just remember being at this disco and dancing to it-”

“Thinking you proper vibe with it and understand the lyrics but you barely even know what an aeroplane is,” Pierre laughed and Charles nodded along, joining his laughter.

“That’s way too true oh my God. I forgot how _hard_ I tried to understand everything and thought that I knew it all at that age. I think I was like nine. I couldn’t even spell my surname still at that point and I thought I was going to be the next Shakespeare, honestly.”

“Admittedly your surname is confusing.”

Yeah, Charles thought, it was made even more confusing when the letters kept jumping around and wiggling back and forth and didn’t stay still long enough to be able to comprehend them. 

At least he could spell it now. 

“But yeah it was a good night. Dan hated us but I think he was also glad to see me laughing and smiling after how shit I felt all week. We got arrested. And then when we got home, we dragged Dan back out and we got McDonald’s at like 3am and we-”

“Hang on, hang on, hang on. You got arrested?”

“Yeah,” Charles nodded. 

“You and Charlotte got arrested,” Pierre repeated, stopping dead in his tracks and staring at Charles.

“Yep.”

“You got arrested?!” His tone became incredulous as he stared at Charles, who simply smirked and nodded, throwing up a peace sign.

“Not the first time it’s happened to be fair.”

“ _Why_ did you get arrested?”

“Well we didn’t do it on purpose. It was because we got in a fight with this guy who was hurling homophobic abuse at someone and then he tried it on with Charlotte but didn’t get very far before she went for him. Police broke it up because there was a cop car literally like twenty meters from us and had I known it was there, we probably wouldn’t have got in the fight. But yeah, it took us down the station, I called my dad, he came down with my lawyer-”

“You have a lawyer?!”

“Yeah it’s because I’m a dumb bitch.” He joked before correcting himself when he saw Pierre’s concerned expression, “Nah I’m joking. It’s because of Mick. So, Dad came down with Catherine, whole matter was cleared up because it was argued that it was self-defence because they couldn’t fully prove who threw the first punch, even though it was definitely Charlotte, and then we went home, went back out for the McDonalds, and then came home to split another bottle of Echo Falls between us and passed out on my carpet in full dress suits.”

Pierre stared at Charles as he processed the information.

“How are you still alive?” He asked.

Charles pretended to think about it for a moment before a wicked grin befell his features, “By pure fucking spite.”

“You’re insane.”

“I think so,” he grinned as Pierre shook his head slowly at him before they started walking again. 

It was actually quite nice to simply walk and chat with someone with no expectations other than to hang out.

Normally, the only people that didn’t have expectations around Charles were his brothers and their boyfriends.

Apparently, Charlotte had them...

“But things are alright between you now? You and Charlotte, I mean.”

“Kinda yeah. We had a talk Saturday lunchtime, because I’d been playing on the PlayStation with Max and the lads, and I got all sad again about Charlotte and started crying because I miss her and I hate arguing with her. And Max got a bit fed up, because he’s Max, he does, and he dragged me to her place and she apologised, I apologised, we kinda understand where both of us were coming from and she acknowledged that she should’ve spoken to me before we got to the coffee shop and all that. It’s weird though, because like, we’ve sorted it but it’s still a bit off, but at the same time I get why she said what she did? I dunno it’s hard to explain, but like maybe I am just the guy that doesn’t get the happy ending so I shouldn’t be surprised when people get frustrated with my slutty behaviour.”

“I get where you’re coming from, and I’m glad it’s sorted somewhat. People say things they don’t mean, things they word wrong so it comes across in the wrong way. They say things that they don’t fully understand and then regret it when they realise they shouldn’t look at the tip of it but the whole thing.” Pierre looked over at Charles and Charles looked down at his shoes. He didn’t want the reminder of being called fucked up. He reminded himself of that way too often. 

“I think you and Charlotte are probably going to talk a lot, get things fully sorted. Did anything get said about meeting the girls again?”

“Not yet. Little bit. Charlotte mentioned that Cate felt bad and Dilara was worried, so I do want to meet them again because obviously we didn’t get off on the best foot and I don’t want them to think I’m just another fucked up-”

“No, don’t say that.”

“But it’s what people think. They see this kid who can’t stop crying or whatever, and they’re like ‘ah yeah he’s fucking crazy’. I’m not. And I want to show people that. It’s a bad time in my head sometimes and I need people to understand that I’m not fucked up and I’m not stupid and I’m not a fucking liability because I’ve made mistakes and have a bad time in my head sometimes.”

“I agree. You can make mistakes and you can make decisions people don’t agree with, but it doesn’t make you a bad person,” Pierre nodded. 

Charles didn’t miss the way Pierre automatically went to touch his hand but quickly pulling it away when he remembered Charles’ touch aversion. 

“I think also sometimes it does me good to be called out? Like don’t get me wrong it hurts a lot but there’s something helpful about it,” Charles told him. 

“It’s kinda like a weird version of therapy I guess.”

“Yeah. I think it’s also I do better with people being honest with me about how they feel. Max can’t do that. You know I told you Max remembers a lot of things about our childhood?” Charles waited for Pierre to nod before he continued, “I remember being told once that the reason why Max withdraws into himself and tries to deal with whatever’s going on by himself is because of that. He’ll always remember and be affected by what happened to us. He can’t even have a conversation with people sometimes because it triggers something in his brain. Whereas with me, sometimes I question if it even happened because I can’t remember anything. I know it did, but…”

“I know what you mean. I don’t remember much about my Mama when I was little. Going to Greece and that. I remember being in Greece but I never remember her being there. Sometimes it feels like a stupid dream.”

“Yeah, exactly that. There’s only one thing that I remember and it’s enough to convince me that what happened to us wasn’t a dream.”

There was a silence where Charles knew Pierre was giving him the opportunity to open up if he wanted to. 

He didn’t. 

He hated bringing it up. 

It was one of Ada’s favourite conversation pieces because of the trauma he experienced from it and the fact that his brain liked to bring it up every once in a while. It always seemed to result in a screaming nightmare that had him throwing up and screeching the house down at 3am. 

Fun. 

It wasn’t fun. 

It was never fun…

Ada told him off when he said it was fun. 

“Guessing you want to pretend you didn’t say anything?” Pierre asked and Charles nodded.

“It’s just some dark shit. You don’t want to get lumped with it, trust me. I don’t even talk to Max about it ‘cause it’ll badly fuck him up.”

“Do you talk to someone?”

“Normally Dad,” Charles confirmed. A wave of emotion poured through him when he saw Pierre sigh in relief.

“I want you to know, no matter what, if you ever need me, no matter what time of day it is or what I’m doing, if you need someone, if your head is scaring, if you want someone to listen, you can call me.”

Charles swallowed and looked down at his feet, hands tying awkwardly across his front as he nodded. He wanted to say something, to say thank you, however the darker, more awkward part of his brain, was whispering about how he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve people caring about him. He didn’t deserve people wanting to sit up with him. He was an inconvenience.

“Whatever your brain is telling you right now, if it’s telling you that you don’t deserve this, it’s lying. It doesn’t matter who you are, Charles, you are a good person and you deserve people to care about you.”

“Really doesn’t feel like it,” Charles whispered as tears pricked at his eyes. 

They were walking through a field at this point, and with it not being private property but instead was simply abandoned, Charles sunk to the ground amidst the grass and leant back on his hands. 

“It’s hard feeling like you matter in a world where your existence is insignificant,” Charles murmured and Pierre sunk down next to him after a brief moment. 

“I wish you didn’t feel like this. I can’t imagine how dark it must be for you sometimes.”

“It’s been alright lately. Just, I dunno, people being nice always seems to hurt. I can’t _breathe_ without hearing Mick in my head saying I’m worthless, or Max’s voice saying I’m unlovable. How Dan used to get annoyed with me for caring about Max. And it’s just,” Charles pushed himself forward and dropped his face into his hands as the tears that had been building dropped, “Everything with my Mum is coming to the front of my mind always, I can’t do it. I don’t want to be around and having to act like an adult when I feel like a kid. I’m fucking terrified all the time and I’m scared to tell my Dad because he tells me he’s sorted it and Max won’t talk to Dan and now I’m scared Max is going to do something and I just don’t fucking know what to do and all I can think about is if Max gets himself overwhelmed again-”

“Charles, Charles, look at me, look up,” Pierre said as he shifted to sit in front of Charles rather than beside him. “Things are going to be okay. Max not talking to Daniel doesn’t mean that he’s going to spiral. Talk to your Dad about how you’re scared. This is a massive thing that happened to you, and I don’t know what happened, but if you’re _this_ scared you need to talk to him.”

“I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

“Your Dad loves you. He’s not going to be mad. Your Dad wants to take care of you. They always will.”

“I don’t want to go back to school. I’m scared, Pierre,” Charles admitted, looking up at him with tears streaming down his face.

“You have every right to be scared. But you’re going to do it. You’re going to be fine. You’ve got Max. You’ve got Lando, and Charlotte. I’ll be around if you want me there.”

“I want you there,” Charles whispered. 

“I’ll be there. I know you’re scared, and you’re worried, but you don’t always have to be okay. You can falter. You can breakdown. And people will be there to save you.”

Charles stared at him for a moment, using the collar of his shirt to brush at his tears one at a time as his eyes flicked over Pierre’s features, “It feels like I can be okay with you.”

“I’ll always be around, Charles.”

And Charles believed him. 

For once, he did. 

He was used to people leaving him. He was used to people not caring. 

Maybe, just maybe, Pierre would stay. In what capacity he would, Charles wasn’t sure. But Pierre was trying and maybe Charles wouldn’t need to keep letting that little part of his unconscious that hated him get louder.

Pierre waited for Charles to calm down and his eyes to not be as red anymore, and also for Charles to give him his consent to carry on taking the photographs. They sat watching the sun for a while as it shifted in the sky, trees falling upon them to encase them in the shadows whilst still letting the heat of the sun warm their skin. 

For a little while, Charles watched Pierre walk around and keep squatting down. To the layman, it probably looked like Pierre was simply taking the same picture over and over, and to be fair, he probably was. But Charles understood it. 

There was something about watching another artist work that made Charles smile. 

Going through the same motions every single time, doing the same line or shot forty-seven times just to get the one right that hits a little bit different. Pierre worked with the same methodical manner that Charles did. 

One shot. Stop. Look.

Two shot. Stop. Look. 

Three shot. Stop. Linger for a bit longer. Look again. 

Try again. 

Charles wasn’t a photographer but he understood the motion of trying to get it right and questioning whether that one piece was the right one or whether it was worth starting again. 

Starting again…

Starting again was _hard_. Going back to school was hard. Rebuilding himself was hard. And whilst his head felt empty, it was at least filled with one small reminder. 

He wasn’t alone. 

The sound of the camera going off made Charles jump and he looked across to Pierre who gave him a sheepish smile. 

“I was going to tell you I was doing that but the shot was too good. I can delete it if you want?”

“Show me,” Charles grinned and Pierre fell down to sit beside him. He unhooked his camera from around his neck and opened up the photos before passing it to Charles. Charles lay back in the grass and held the camera above his head, flicking through them and smiling at the different pictures. 

He was right in his assumption that Pierre would have taken the same photo _numerous_ times to try and get the shot right and Charles showed him which one was his favourite. 

It was a simple enough shot where Pierre had knelt down and shot upwards, capturing the grass and some faraway trees create a picture across the sun, and if Charles had to guess, Pierre would most likely edit the shot when he got home to make it silhouetted. 

Kinda like that shot from the Lion King where they’re walking across a tree branch in front of the moon. Only better. Because it was Pierre’s work. 

And then he got to the picture of himself. The light had been half captured across his face, lighting up the middle of him whilst keeping the edges shrouded in darkness, almost as though it was trying to show the boy on the inside on the outside. 

“Holy shit,” Charles whispered, “This is so good. I look hot.”

Pierre laughed softly as he looked at Charles. 

“You’ve got the brooding bad boy look perfect. You look like you’re about to fight someone.”

“We will fight the patriarchy, P,” Charles replied, grinning at Pierre.

He handed the camera back and Pierre placed it down carefully between them. 

“I’ll fight anything with you,” Pierre whispered. 

Charles reached a hand up to run his fingers shakily though his hair, tugging lightly on the strands as he got lost staring into Pierre’s eyes. 

“What’s going through your head?”

“Nothing,” Charles whispered. “Absolutely nothing.”

It was the truth. It was pure emptiness. 

It was kinda nice. 

“I can’t believe we go back to school on Wednesday,” Pierre quietly said, “I’m going to miss going exploring with you.”

“We can still do it. Maybe we can even get Charlotte and the lads involved. I’m sure Dan has an old football we can borrow or I don’t know, we should ask my Dads if you lot can stay at mine for the weekend. They’d trust us.”

“That’d be fun,” Pierre agreed, “Definitely fun getting Lando and Max in the same room.”

“I’m removing the PlayStation,” Charles quickly said as Pierre laughed softly. 

Pierre’s hand was lying between them and Charles carefully dragged his fingernail over the back of his hand, watching the way Pierre shuddered slightly at the movement. 

Charles had never initiated contact between them without advanced warning, and as terrifying as it currently was, he was tired of being controlled by the past. 

The blackberry bruises that Mick had decorated his skin with had gone now. Lost in a world that Charles tried to pretend didn’t exist. The bruises still lived on, still decorated his soul like a stain that he couldn’t make go away. 

It would always be there. 

Sometimes he missed the boy that he’d been before Mick. 

Sometimes he wondered who he’d be without being tainted Mick.

Sometimes he wondered if he’d be here now if it hadn’t been for Mick.

Not here as in still alive. That had always been the plan. 

He meant here as in laying in a field with a boy that a year ago Charles probably wouldn’t have looked at again after sleeping with him.

It was weird how things changed. 

“Can I touch you?” Pierre murmured and Charles found himself nodding without hesitation. 

Where that burst of courage had come from, he had no idea. 

Pierre’s fingers trailed across his fingers, catching the dents, cuts, and scars from years of art, fighting and accidentally stabbing himself with scalpels and pins. 

It felt like a wildfire erupting under his skin with every movement of skin against skin. 

Slowly his fingers moved higher, staying exactly where Charles could see them before hesitating as they got to his shoulders. His fingers slid across the slightly silky material of the shirt but Pierre didn’t seem to care. Neither did Charles. 

He didn’t even care when Pierre let out a very shaky breath and moved his fingers higher, rolling onto his side so he was closer to Charles. 

Charles quickly followed suit, craving the moment of normality when normally his brain was screaming at him for allowing someone to touch him. 

“Pierre,” Charles breathed out, eyes falling shut as Pierre ran his fingers down Charles’ jawline. 

He moved ever so slightly closer, pressing his forehead against Pierre’s, sharing the breath between their lips. Pierre’s thumb teased lightly against his lip as his fingers rest against his cheek. It was as though thousands of little pin pricks were chasing his touch, a featherlight touch that had Charles wanting to both lean into it and push Pierre’s hand away from him.

“Pierre,” Charles breathed again. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

Charles didn’t need to say anything else. Pierre just knew.

Of course he _knew_.

Charles slipped his fingers between Pierre’s, tying their hands together.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” Pierre whispered.

And Charles wished he could say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao
> 
> kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore💙


	14. High Hopes - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a... quick update???? 
> 
> we are all surprised luvs xx

Laying in that field, it was like nothing could hurt him. 

He never kissed Pierre. He _couldn’t_ kiss Pierre. 

No matter how hard he wanted. 

Part of him feared that the second he kissed him, he’d never stop. 

The other part of him feared that the second he kissed him, he’d throw himself in front of a bus. 

It was weird how his brain flipflopped between vehemently wanting to stay alive whilst also having no idea how to understand the screaming whispering that told him to vanish. 

They’d walked home not long later, their hands brushing every once in a while, and their voices devoid of the ability to speak. Neither of them felt capable.

Neither of them knew what to say.

It still felt like his body was on fire from where Pierre has touched him.

They’d parted ways not too far from Charles’ house with a gentle ‘see you at school’. 

Whether Charles would make it to Wednesday was a whole other issue.

He’d gone home, intent on finding Max and forcing him to sit with him. 

Being alone didn’t sound great right now.

Of course, that was foiled by his brother living a life that didn’t revolve around Charles, meaning he couldn’t be mad. He was still happy his brother was happy. 

“Max is out,” Valtteri said when Charles went to knock on his closed door. “He and Daniel had to go to town to fetch something for Saturday.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You alright?” Valtteri asked and Charles shrugged.

He didn’t know. 

He didn’t feel okay.

He didn’t feel bad.

He didn’t feel empty.

He didn’t feel full.

“Can I sit with you for a bit?” Charles asked and Valtteri nodded, holding out his arm for Charles to dive under. He may be taller than Valtteri, however his biggest brother gave hugs that reminded Charles of safety. 

Right now, being safe was what mattered.

Charles curled into Valtteri’s side in his bedroom, watching his older brother cycle through some textbooks and research papers in preparation for uni already. He was going to study Mechanical Engineering, and was already doing something complicated from what Charles was able to read, and listening to the smash of Valtteri’s fingers on the keyboard was just what he needed to make his head stop being so violently confused.

His eyes started pulling shut, emotionally, socially, psychologically and physically exhausted from both hanging out with Pierre and from being touched so much. 

He didn’t want to let go of Valtteri. He was like a teddy bear. A comfort. And when Valtteri nudged his old stuffed reindeer toy into Charles’ hands as a peace offering, Charles smiled and let his head roll backwards onto Valtteri’s pillow rather than Valtteri’s shoulder. Poro the Reindeer got tucked under his chin as he shuffled forwards to press his forehead against Valtteri’s shoulder on the pillow. 

“I’ve got you, Charlie,” Valtteri murmured, fingers scraping through his hair light enough to lull him to sleep. 

Time to reset...

**— Wednesday 16th September —**

Falling into his seat in his first period art class, Charles dumped his backpack at his feet and immediately dropped his head into his arms to try and fall asleep again.

He’d gotten used to falling asleep at 2,3,4am some days and not getting up until closer to midday, therefore the current adjustment to having class at 8:50am wasn’t going well.

Charlotte looked similarly exhausted as she dropped onto the bench beside him, closing her eyes also.

“Long night?” Charles mumbled.

“Hmm, I finally started watching Peaky Blinders for you and I decided-”

“That Ada Shelby can stamp on your neck and you’d say thank you?”

“Yep. She’s fucking gorgeous. And I stalked Sophie Rundell’s Instagram and now I’m very tired because it was I think close to 3am before I realised I should sleep, at which point I was tempted to just stay awake and sleep when I get home at lunch.”

“That’s a mood,” Charles sighed and stretched his arms over his head as his art teacher started calling attendance. 

“Here Ian!” Charles shouted up when he was asked before smashing his head back down into the table.

They were tasked with researching an artist to help with creating a vision for the kind of vibe they wanted to go with for their mock exam, and as Charles knew he wanted to do something related to the evolution of the mind, he had to find an artist that was related to it and he managed to blag an escape from class to go and look in the school library. 

Walking through the school, Charles hummed to himself and bopped his head to an imaginary tune playing in his head. 

Actually it was probably _One Direction_. For some reason, that was just the current vibe of his mind and he wasn’t complaining. It was pretty solid. 

“Shit sorry,” Charles said as he walked into someone, hands throwing out both to separate them from being near each other and also to help catch the other person slightly. 

“No, it’s my fault,” Antonio said and Charles looked up at him. 

“It’s fine.”

They both stopped in the middle of the corridor, staring at each other as though to say ‘well which one of us is going to move first’, before Antonio took the first move. 

“How are you?” Antonio asked awkwardly and Charles shrugged. 

“Yeah, fine I guess. No thanks to you lot. Made me feel like a fucking freak so cheers for that.”

“Charles, I’m sorry.”

“Did you even know what happened really?” Charles asked, staring him dead in the eye, “Did you? Did you trust me on the rumours? Or did you think I made it up?”

“We always knew you wasn’t lying. We should’ve spoken to you properly.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have treated me like a fucking freak because I was having a panic attack. Sometimes I wonder why I was even friends with you lot because you never gave a shit about me, only that I could get you into parties and stuff. Why did you even keep me around for as long as you did? Was it only because I was useful or was it because you actually liked him?” 

Antonio stared at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing uselessly with no noise coming out. 

“Yeah, thought so,” Charles sighed. “You didn’t care about me. Not really. You only gave a shit about the popularity.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of people using me. Get the fuck out of my life, Antonio. I don’t fucking care anymore. I don’t need you lot. I’ve got Max, George and Alex and Lando. Charlotte. Don’t need you. Never going to need you again. So, do me a favour, fuck off out of my life and don’t try and come back.”

“Is that what you want?”

Charles laughed humourlessly and shook his head, “I don’t care. I don’t care what I _want_. What I _want_ is for my head to stop whispering shit at me about not staying alive. What I _want_ is to not be afraid of people touching me. What I _want_ is to be able to kiss the boy I’m falling for and not feel dirty for it. What I _need_ is for you to fuck off and stay the fuck away from me. If you don’t, I’ll fucking deck you, understand?”

“Charles Räikkönen-Vettel!” his Head of Year was staring at him over Antonio’s shoulder and Charles ignored him. 

He kept his stare focused on Antonio as his head of year walked closer and held his hand in front of Charles without touching him to tell him to back off. 

Sebastian had made it pretty clear to all of the members of staff at Charles’ school that he wasn’t to be touched without Charles’ permission or they risked getting a visit from Charles’ lawyer. The power his Dad had was something that Charles definitely that now Charles was older he appreciated the value of.

“I’m serious,” Charles told Antonio one last time before moving past Antonio and taking off in a run to stop the Head of Year being able to stop him from running and/or give him detention for swearing _and_ threatening to fight people. 

As long as he didn’t end up back on school behavioural report again, everything would be fine. 

Actually, Charles had no idea if he could go back on behaviour report now that he was in Sixth Form. He’d spent a long time from year seven to year eleven on report simply for his behaviour, and he didn’t need to give Sebastian another reason to get frustrated with Charles and his educational experience. 

To be fair, there was a lot of things that Charles shouldn’t have been able to do throughout school that he’d been able to. Not many nine-year olds could get banned from a church, and yet Charles somehow managed it. He was a talented little shit. 

He made his way to the school library without getting caught by either another teacher or his head of year (he wasn’t having Carole have a go at him for getting done in by the Head of Year on his first day back). 

As he was perusing the shelves, looking for a specific reference book he knew existed because he’d used it back in year 11 (there was a lot of pictures and it appealed to his dyslexic brain), he leaned his head against one of the shelves and closed his eyes for a minute.

Fucking hell he was tired. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” George asked and Charles spun around with his hand thrown over his heart in shock. George smirked at catching Charles off guard and he flipped him off playfully. 

“You fucked me up then,” Charles answered instead and walked over to sit down at George’s table. “What you up to?”

“Business work. I was supposed to have tutor but my tutor text us all like five minutes before the bell went saying that she’s not in so I’m getting some work done on a paper. Why aren’t you in class?”

“Looking for some research stuff,” Charles shrugged, pushing his chair backwards so he was gripping the edge of the table and swinging on the back two legs.

“And you couldn’t do that on the internet?” George asked, looking up from his computer long enough to ask Charles the question before going back to typing.

“Nah,” Charles sighed. 

It was easier to read words online, that was definitely the truth, however it still took him a long time and he hated having to read stuff in class for that particular reason. 

He hadn’t told anyone aside from his family, Daniel, Lewis and Charlotte about his dyslexia and was careful to only use his laminate dividers that helped the words to stay more readable when he knew he was alone with either a teacher or where he could be sure no one saw him. He wasn’t _ashamed_ or _embarrassed_ that he had a learning difficulty, but there was just always so many questions and for someone that was tired of constantly being probed and prodded with questions for a long time throughout all the Mick shit, Charles was tired of answering questions.

However, he did also know when to admit defeat and this was one of those situations.

“Can you actually help me out? If you’re too busy, it’s alright, I’m just kinda struggling.”

“What do you need help with?” 

“I’m trying to find a book but I only recognise the pictures and I know who made the book but I don’t where it’ll be.”

“Who’s the person?”

“Thomas Medicus. He does a load of glass work related to the head and stuff and I need it for referencing,” Charles explained and George nodded. 

“Two seconds and I’ll help,” George said and Charles rolled his head back to stare at the books behind his head.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles asked once George was done and was instead helping him look.

“What’s up?”

“Aside from the whole ‘you had a crush on Alex and I sucked him off’ thing, why did you hate me? Like I don’t have a thing for Alex anymore and yet you’ve always hated me.”

“Never trusted you,” George said honestly and Charles laughed softly. He wasn’t wrong. Charles didn’t really give people much reason to trust him. “I mean, my first interaction with Max involved me threatening you because he thought you was getting off with the guy he liked, so it’s just how it is. Did you know I had a thing for Alex when you got him in spin the bottle?”

“Not until I kissed him and I saw the way you were looking at me like you wanted to kill me. But in my defence, I was very drunk that day and I didn’t care. I just wanted Alex. And I knew he wanted you, so it made me want him more. I’m sorry about all of that,” Charles admitted and George waved him off. 

“Nah. We was fifteen, I don’t care anymore. I was mad at the time but I don’t care anymore.”

“I’m still sorry. I had a crush on Alex and I didn’t care who I hurt to try and get him.”

George smiled across at him, “I don’t blame you. Alex is great.”

“How long you been together now?”

“It’ll be three years in January.”

“Shit, man. Congrats.”

“It’s your fault, technically.”

“Oh my god does that make it my relationship too? Have I been in a polyamorous relationship since I was fifteen and never known?” Charles joked and George nodded solemnly.

“Sorry it’s taken you all this time to find out.”

“You’re pretty enough that I’d date you.” Charles winked playfully at George, causing the other boy to roll his eyes.

“You’re the worst, Charles.”

“Yeah, everyone tells me that.”

“Even Pierre?”

Charles sighed and threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“That’s just a whole complicated mess,” Charles said and George waited for him to expand on it. “I have no idea what’s going on with him. I nearly kissed him the other day and yet I can’t _be_ with him at he the moment, but I also don’t want him to be with anyone else, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah it does. It’s that thing of questioning whether you can ever get him or whether you’re forcing yourself into it because then you’ll be perceived as ‘normal’ and that’s the image you want other people to see.”

“Exactly! And part of me thinks that I only want Pierre because he’s different, you know? Like when he smiles at me, I feel all warm inside but at the same time, do I only want him because he’s interesting to me, or because it’s easy to fall for him.”

“It’s that thing of falling for a guy that you know cares for you back and not being stuck feeling worthless and like you’re not important, when in reality, you’re important to dozens other people even if you’re not important to the person you wish would just look your way,” George murmured, fingers pulling on a book to check it as he took a shaky breath.

Charles watched him for a second and took the book that George pulled out into his hands, “Sounds like you’re talking from experience there, George.”

“I know what it’s like to fall for a guy that won’t ever look your way. If Pierre cares about you, try exploring your feelings and don’t get hung up on what ifs. They’ll only hurt you,” George smiled sadly at him. Charles cradled his book to him a bit tighter, a blanket of safety in this slightly weird conversation.

“Who hurt you?”

“Someone in the year above us. He never knew and it never would’ve worked out between us anyway. He was always just wanting someone else, I never even got a look in. This was back in year eight I think anyway, so there’s no bad feelings. The guy found someone else and he’s really happy with him now and he passed along his Business revision papers to me to help me with the exams, so at least I got that recognition eventually.”

Charles frowned suspiciously as he looked at George.

“Don’t,” George shrugged, “It’s alright. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t need to know. You can keep your mouth shut on this one, alright?” George semi-warned him and Charles instantly broke out into a grin.

“How much is my silence worth?”

“I’ll talk you up to Pierre when we’re in media tomorrow.”

“Done deal,” Charles quickly agreed and held his hand out for George to shake. They shook on it quickly and Charles instantly pulled his hand out of George’s the second it was over to scrub his hand across the back of his jeans to try and get the uncomfortable feeling off him. 

“I need to get back to class, anyway. My teacher’s gonna have my head for how long I’ve been gone,” Charles said and George nodded, taking his seat again at the table.

“No problem. See you later?”

“Wanna go on COD tonight? Or Fall Guys or something? Get the lads involved?”

George smiled down at his laptop and then back up at Charles, “Yeah, sounds good, mate. Text the group chat, yeah?”

Charles agreed and lazily saluted George before heading out of the library and starting the walk back to his art room.

The excited grin never once left his face at George calling him mate. 

It seemed so stupid. So insignificant. So unimportant. 

Now he understood how Max felt when he’d gotten actual friends.

And for the first time in a long, _long_ time, Charles was understanding the difference between popularity and having friends. 

It was definitely still a bit awkward with George, and Charles could almost guarantee that there’d be a lot more jumping around each other and trying to learn each other’s boundaries now that they had face-to-face conversations and Charles wasn’t protected by the slight anonymity discord calls instead. 

But it was progress. And he was proud of himself.

He’d touched George, a person that for a long time had been very much off limits in his mind. He’d talked and joked and never once let in that little nagging sound that told him he wasn’t worthy of people caring about him.

Maybe George didn’t _care_ about Charles, however he must’ve at least gave a bit of a shit otherwise he wouldn’t have helped Charles find the textbook. 

The feeling building in his stomach was that same apprehensive feeling he’d felt when he’d first met Seb, and when he’d first started at school, and when he’d first kissed a boy. 

God he wished he could remember who his first kiss was.

That’d be a funny thing to try and bring up for a drinking game.

‘Drink if you can remember the name of your first kiss’

Charles would have to neck the entire bottle of alcohol as he had no idea who his first male or female kiss had been.

Life was fun in Charles’ brain sometimes, and when he walked back into art, brandishing the textbook with a smile on his face and finding that Charlotte was asleep on the workbench, he knew one thing. 

He was getting there. 

And he was so damn proud of himself.

**— Friday 18th September —**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 12:19    
u coming to sit w us   
  
Where are you?   
  
cafeteria double doors back left corner   
  
Ah okay. It it’s alright then yes definitely!   
  
ye its chill dw come join👀   
  


“Who you texting?” Charlotte suddenly said in his ear, causing Charles to jump out of his seat.

What was it with people and trying to give him a heart attack lately? He wasn’t even eighteen yet, jeez. He knew he kept saying he didn’t want to be around but he at least wanted it to be on _his_ terms and not because his best friend had given him a heart attack.

“You little bastard, fucking hell,” Charles sighed as he breathed heavily, glaring at Charlotte and holding his heart. 

“Answer my question!”

“No!”

“He’s probably texting Pierre,” Max said as he tapped away on his phone and lifted it to his ear, “He’s always texting Pierre lately. Hey Dan!”

Charles flipped Max off as he started talking away to Daniel on the phone. 

Two days back at school and Max and Daniel were already feeling the effect of being in separate places. 

Daniel hadn’t even _moved_ yet. He was probably still in Max’s fucking bed at home. He was even meant to be coming to fetch the twins from school at the end of the day simply because Max wanted to spend more time with him. 

Loving, horny little bastards. 

“He’s going to be alright, you know?” Charlotte quietly nudged, looking pointedly at the way Charles was staring at Max. 

“I know. And I know it was apparently me that had the bad separation anxiety, but it’s gonna fuck him up when Daniel isn’t by his side all the time anymore and he has to get used to being ‘alone’ again.”

“It’ll probably do them some good. I know they love each other but they spend a lot of time together, probably helpful to get them used to not being in each other’s pockets all the time.”

Charles sighed and dropped his head onto Charlotte’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

“Why do we have to grow up?”

“I don’t know, my love, we just do.” Charlotte brushed Charles’ hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to it before snaking her fingers through his hair. 

“Don’t touch my hair,” he grumbled only for Charlotte to ruffle his hair further, “Bitch.”

“That’s why you love me, sweet’ums. Do you want some of my pasta pot?”

Charles nodded and took a spare fork from Charlotte, stabbing at some of the pasta and shoving it in his mouth without opening his eyes. He’d been eating this watery pasta since he started at Forests Secondary and Sixth Form Academy when he was eleven. He could manage it for another few months until he finished his education here. 

It was weird that this was going to be the end of his education. 

His _mandatory_ education. 

He never thought he’d go on to university, instead always anticipating that the second he didn’t _have_ to attend school anymore, he’d go off and get a job or try and convince a West End producer to hire him to be on the stage. 

The stage was always a second home. 

The classroom was Max’s second home. 

He was the smart boy for a reason. 

Charles was the dramatic boy for a reason. 

“Are you still dead, Räikkönen?” Lando said as he flopped down onto the table and Charles nodded. 

“Feels like it.”

“What happened?” Alex asked and Charles opened an eye to glare at Lando. 

“That little bastard kept me awake all night.”

“Oh darling, if you were tired we could’ve stopped after a couple rounds. I thought your stamina was better, we’ve all heard that apparently it’s great,” Lando joked and Charles spit out a goodly natured ‘fuck you’. 

“Maybe another time,” Lando grinned, “I don’t think Sacha would be impressed if I called him up like ‘yeah sorry I had to sleep with Charles because I beat him at Fall Guys’.”

“I’m open to a threesome babe,” Charles hit back and Charlotte automatically smacked him upside the head.

“You can’t even hold my hand without crying you’re not having a threesome with anyone.”

“Yeah you’re probably right,” Charles agreed and continued stabbing blindly at the pasta pot.

Out of the boys, Lando was definitely the easiest to get along with. His boyfriend attended a different school to them and had completely different hours to them as he went to an international school like one of Charlotte’s girls did. Lando had been dating someone else at the start of year 12, however apparently things had soured badly and they’d split up as a result. He was quiet about the new boyfriend, never really saying much about him aside from the bare minimum but Charles knew he missed him a lot. They’d played a couple games with Sacha before and whilst Charles hadn’t really said much to him, the guy seemed alright and pretty perfect for Lando. 

Lando was a good and wholesome kid and Charles was glad to know him.

Still made him want to punch the little shit sometimes.

Charles still had his eyes closed when Lando opened his mouth, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. 

At least he couldn’t see the look of pure betrayal that Max gave him. 

“Hey, Charles? Are you going to do an audition this year? I know you didn’t do last years because of Mick and everything that happened but you was proper good as Charlie and you’d be well good as Danny,” Lando asked and Charles grimaced on Charlotte’s shoulder. 

He’d still not told anyone in his family about doing the drama performances in year eleven and the entire reason he hadn’t done it the year before was because by time the auditions rocked up, Charles had been hungover on the day of the auditions and he’d been yelled at for too long by his Dad the morning of to realise he was meant to be there. He couldn’t even put the blame on Mick for that one. It was before Mick had joined. It was his own stupidity that led to him failing to do it. 

“Hang on, take part in what?” Max asked sharply and Charles didn’t dare open his eyes. He felt Charlotte reach under the table and take his hand and Charles squeezed her hand back. 

“The auditions.”

“Auditions for what?”

“The winter musical you fuckin’ idiot,” Lando laughed, not realising that Charles was gradually drawing closer into himself. 

He’d forgotten Lando had been involved in the production. It made sense. The kid studied drama, he loved being on the stage. It didn’t mean that Charles remembered. He was too busy thinking about himself. 

“You were in Kinky Boots in Year 11?!” Max asked, directing his attention to Charles who reluctantly opened his eyes and stared back at Max. The betrayal and confusion were evident as Charles reluctantly nodded. 

“You never told them?!” Lando asked himself and Charles shook his head. 

It was like someone had stolen his voice, thrown it to the wind and left him to stare down at his lap so that he didn’t have to see the way that Charlotte and Max were staring at him like he’d told them that he’d tried to steal the crown jewels once. 

“No,” Charles whispered. He took his hand out of Charlotte’s and nervously started tugging on one of the strings in his hoodie to stop his hands from shaking. 

“Charles Marc Räikkönen-Vettel why did you not tell us?! How did none of us know?!” Charlotte asked incredulously and Charles simply shrugged. He felt someone nudge the toe of their foot against his and he peeked up to see Pierre sat across from him with a soft and encouraging smile on his lips. A gentle reminder that when he felt like the world was attacking him again, there was at least a small beacon of light looking out for him. 

“I just didn’t want to. I thought my Dad would get mad at me. I thought I wasn’t good at it, I dunno, I just didn’t want to.”

“Charles,” Lando sighed, “You sold that show out. Darbus was so upset when you didn’t come back for the auditions last year.”

Darbus was the school drama teacher and Charles knew that she’d been upset with him about not turning up. He’d received numerous emails from her asking why he hadn’t turned up, she’d cornered him in the corridor and even had Carole have a word with him purely to try and get to the bottom of why he’d skipped it all, even when he’d been offered a late audition _and_ to attend call-backs to audition. 

He’d skipped it all because he was tired of being seen as the show off. He loved being the centre of attention and the validation that he got from being important warmed the part of his brain that told him he’d never succeed at anything. 

Lando was right. Charles had sold out the show. 

He’d been good as Charlie. 

There was something about the way that he’d been able to go from that shy and bumbling businessman to walking the fake runway himself in the boots and feeling like he was important for reasons beyond just his body that made him feel something that he didn’t really know how to explain. 

When he’d stood on the stage, whilst he was playing someone else, it felt like he was putting the most authentic version of himself across. He’d done it for a grade after all (never mind the fact that he came out with the highest grade in the class), but still. It was as though he was able to showcase a side of himself that normally he didn’t want to share. He was known for his dramatics, for being the centre of attention at all times and wanting to have people look at him for all the right (and wrong) reasons. He was already way past being used as a body for sex, however being on the stage? It made him special. It made him stand out for the _right_ reason for once and not just for being a whore or being the kid that made people laugh for how inappropriate or badly behaved he could be. 

“You smashed it, Charlie,” Alex said, pulling Charles out of his head and nudging his shoulder slightly.

George nodded along, quickly agreeing, “He’s right, you are really good on the stage. You should do it.”

“I don’t know…” Charles murmured.

“I think you should try it,” Pierre told him, smiling encouragingly, “Just do the audition, there’s no obligation to take the role if you decide you’re not ready. But I think you should give yourself the opportunity to do it.”

“But it’s Grease, and Danny has all those physical contact scenes. What if I’m not okay? What if I panic or I-I-I freak out or someone says that Mick didn’t happen because I could do it?”

“Just because you might not panic doesn’t mean you didn’t get hurt, Charles. You were assaulted. You know that. The courts know it. The law knows it. Mick owned up to it. _Fuck_ everyone else Charles. No one else fucking matters. You are what matters and I will fucking kill whoever it is that tries to invalidate your experience because they don’t understand how fucking terrifying it is to go through what you did. You are a good person and just because you’re perhaps not worrying so much now when you have physical contact with someone, it doesn’t immediately mean that you didn’t still suffer through months of being terrified for someone to even brush past you,” Charlotte ranted and the six boys that were sat at the table all went wide eyed as they stared at her and the way she was angrily stabbing at a piece of penne. 

Charlotte looked up when none of the boys said anything and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, pick your jaws up, you drama queens, or I’ll fucking smack the lot of you,” she grumbled and Pierre smirked. 

“She does have a hard slap, I’d agree that you don’t want to get slapped by her,” Pierre agreed.

Charlotte looked up at him with a small smirk decorating her lips, “Still not going to apologise for that.”

“You don’t need to. I deserved it,” Pierre shrugged, waving her off. 

“Pierre’s right though, Charles,” Charlotte said to draw the subject away from the fact that everyone at the lunch table knew the exact reason _why_ Charlotte had slapped Pierre (to be fair, Charles thought that everyone in the school knew. Charlotte hadn’t exactly been subtle when she smacked the living daylights out of him). “And anyway, the physical contact scene will be with girls and your touch aversion is more focused around boys. I know you don’t like it that much but you are better with girls. And you’d be doing lots of rehearsals so you can slowly work yourself up to it. Like Lando said, Darbus loves you so she’d be willing to give you the time to work slowly through it. You’ll be good at it.”

Charles sighed and tangled his finger around the hoodie rope.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m going to.”

“Right stop being a little bitch,” Max told him in the way that only a sibling could and Charles looked up at his brother, “This is your chance to show off again. To show everyone that you’re more than just the freak show that people thought Mick made you into. You’re an amazing, strong, brilliant brother and you’re the most fucking dramatic person in this school. And you would be amazing as Danny, okay?”

“I don’t know Max.”

“Well I do. I’m a fucking genius, yeah? And if I say you can do it, you can do it. You’re getting there, Charles. And I know you’re scared and I know you’re worried, but you’re getting there. You can’t keep holding back in _fear_. For most people, yeah, they do need to take things slow and not get pushed out of their comfort zone. But if Dad had done that with us, Charles, we’d never have gotten through what we did. And you can do it again. You’re older now, and we’ve got Dad and Isä and you’ve got Ada and Dan and me and Val and Lewis and Charlotte. There’re so many people that want you to do well, Charles, you’re not fighting this battle alone anymore and you need to stop thinking that you can’t be the boy you used to be. You have to change and adapt things, but you are a good person and you can still be that boy that we knew whilst being an acting, artistic, dramatic little bitch, alright?”

Charles shrugged uselessly and looked down at his lap. He knew what Max was trying to get at and he knew that deep in his heart, he really did want to get on that stage and do it all over again. 

He just couldn’t get past the barrier that told him he’d never be good enough. 

It was that same little nagging voice in his head that whispered _‘“None of us are expecting Charles to go to a university. He’s not the studious type. He probably won’t even bother, he’s more interested in art, like Kimi.”_

He’d spoken to his Dad a lot since he’d said that at the gala that had ended up changing Charles’ life. He understood that his Dad had meant it more in terms of ‘Charles will try and focus on his art, he doesn’t care about school’. And his Dad wasn’t wrong. He understood that Seb meant that Charles didn’t like being told what to do and to go through another _three years_ of people nagging him for work, attention, attendance when he’d spent most of his educational years complaining that he didn’t even want to stay in school anymore? Yeah, it made sense that Seb didn’t think Charles would go to university. 

The other part of his head whispered that it was probably because Seb didn’t have the faith in him that he’d succeed. 

To be fair, Charles couldn’t blame him. 

He’d cycled through hobbies like he was destined to be an Olympic cyclist, swapping between anything he possibly could to try and find something that made him smile long enough to not drop it after a couple of weeks. 

Art and Drama were the only things that he stuck with, and he was damn fucking good at them. 

Maybe it was just one of those things that no one else would ever really understand or see the importance of to him. 

He’d gotten used to people not getting him anymore. 

“I need to go and talk to Carole about some work,” Charles whispered and stood up, grabbing his bag and escaping out of the cafeteria. 

Biting hard on the inside of his cheek, he ignored the lads calling after him and the way he knew Charlotte would’ve tried to follow him and picked up the pace.

Quickly he knocked on Carole’s classroom door and walked in the second she saw him stood there.

“Charles, how are you?” Carole asked.

Charles smiled and nodded, before the tears slowly started to fall. His voice cracked but he tried to ignore it, “I’m doing great.”

“Come sit down, sweetheart,” Carole said pushing a chair out and scooting over on her chair to sit opposite him at the table. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Charles.”

“I can’t,” he whispered and folded his arms across the table. Dropping his head into his arms, Charles let the tears fall, sobbing quietly as Carole moved around again.

“Can I rub your back, sweetheart?” Carole asked and Charles nodded. Carole slowly started rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, gently shushing his tears away as Charles sobbed. “Right, I need you to sit up now because you’re struggling to catch your breath and I know you’re upset right now and you don’t exactly have the same self-preservation as the rest of us sometimes sweetheart, but I don’t want you to die in my classroom, darling. Too much paperwork.”

Charles scoffed and pushed himself up, pulling his jumper over his hands and scrubbing at his eyes.

“Alright, that’s it, good boy. Thank you for not making me do paperwork. Take a deep breath, good boy,” Carole carefully encouraged him and although at times the screaming in his head threatened to overpower Carole’s gentle speaking, he knew his tutor was strong enough to keep his brain under a small element of control. “You, my brilliant, favourite little tutee, are absolutely fine. You’re going to be alright. Just take some time with your breathing and let’s get you some tissue to wipe those tears and snot away because you’re a handsome lad and you look disgusting now.”

Carole had an amazing ability to get through to Charles constantly, no matter what his brain was screaming and no matter how much he didn’t believe he was worthy of being cared about.

“Do you want to go home, Charles?” Carole asked and he shook his head. Going home would only make all of this worse. “Okay, that’s alright, do you want to talk to me about what’s happened?”

“I don’t want to do anything.”

“I know, but you need to talk-”

“No. I mean, I don’t want to keep having to _do_ things. I don’t care about talking. That’s not the issue. I _care_ about the fact that people keep expecting shit from me and I don’t even know if I can fucking _breathe_ without messing it up and yet everyone seems to think I’m okay and I’m not and I don’t know how to fucking tell people!” Charles yelled and Carole, bless her, didn’t even look surprised. 

“I understand that, Charles, is this about the school production? Has someone spoke to you about taking part?” 

Charles looked up at her through his tears.

God he hates how fucking smart Carole was and how she just _knew_ what was going through his head.

“How did-”

“Ms Darbus told me she’d be having Lando try and talk you into it. I told her it wouldn’t work. That it’s too soon. That you’re not ready to be the one that’s the centre stage again. It’s fine. You don’t have to do it. None of us expected you to actually do it.”

“But... but, I could,” he whispered, biting at his lip, “It’s just, everyone’ll look at me again-”

“Exactly why you don’t need to. Leave it to someone else.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“They’d probably do it better anyway.”

Charles scoffed and scrubbed his eyes, “No one is as good as me.”

“Then prove it to them,” Carole countered and Charles gave her a shitty look when he realised what she’d done.

She’d deliberately fed in to the voice that said he couldn’t do it so that he had to counter it and argue back. 

She _knew_ he was an argumentative little shit and would keep fighting her on whatever she said. 

“I hate you.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. But someone has to make you see sense. You _know_ you’re ready. You _know_ want to do it. You _know_ you could do it. You _know_ that you will get on that stage and everyone is going to look at you and go ‘wow he’s a talented little bastard’, and that’s what you deserve! Because you are. And I am so damn proud of you, kid. And you are going to smash that audition if you stop giving in to that voice in your head. You wanted this year to be a reset for you, and you need someone to push you to do that. I’ll chuck you off the cliff edge if you need me to instead of pushing you.”

“Only if you let me land head-first,” Charles answered back as the last stray tears fell and he wiped them away, leaving behind traces of a story that he needn’t tell others. “Do you seriously think I can do it though?”

“Yes,” Carole said before he’d even had chance to finish his question fully. “Absolutely. _You_ are brilliant, Charles. No one else can do it like you. You’d be fantastic and you need this. You need to push yourself into a comfort zone that scares you a little bit but the second you do it, you’ll see just how needed it is.”

“I’m still scared, Carole.”

“I know. I’d be worried if you weren’t. But you are good enough, Charles, and people want to believe in you and see how talented you are. Let that talent shine through and don’t hide it too much. I get being scared, but use it to your advantage. Be the enigma that no one else can understand.”

He didn’t know how to be an enigma. 

Maybe Max was right though.

He’d missed the boy he used to be, and whilst he didn’t necessarily want to bring that boy back, maybe there was an element of _him_ that he could bring back to this world. 

Charles was always known as the boy with the mysterious past that had thousands of rumours thrown around to the point that his old life seemed like a dream. A long-dissolved rumour that he’d never understand. The only thing people understood about him was that he was That Person that drew attention and enjoyed the mystery of ‘what was to come next’ with him. 

He may not be okay, but he was getting there.

It was time to stop being scared, he thought, it was time to grow up.

Yeah that probably won’t backfire...

_Probably_

Ladies   
  
**Today** 22:56    
fellas how we feeling about a spoons date to celebrate our lord and savior Charlotte Sine’s 18th birthday  
Lando  
SPOONS SPOONS SPOONS SPOONS   
George  
I’m in   
So is Alex   
aww cute is he sucking your dick so he can’t speak   
George  
I wish I could say he is   
But he’s actually just walking around the house with his cats on his back so no   
lmao love him   
Charlotte  
LADIES WE ARE HAVING A SPOONS DATE   
EMPTY YOUR CALENDERS  
MEET AT THE RAILWAY BELL AT 12PM SHARP  
BE THERE OR BE SQUARE   
Pierre  
What’s Spoons?   
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SPOONS IS?!   
Pierre  
I’M FRENCH   
im divorcing you   
Pierre  
We’re married????   
Charlotte  
BITCH I THIUGHT WE WERE MARRIED   
Lando  
If you’re offering Charles can I marry you too   
whoever can get me permanent residency can marry me   
Pierre  
I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT SPOONS IS PLEASE TELL ME   
ur so boring   
wetherspoons   
it’s a pub/restaurant chain   
Pierre  
Why did you not just say that in the first place?   
cause spoons innit   
George  
It’s just Spoons mate   
Lando  
SPOONS SPOONS SPOONS SPOONS   
Charlotte  
It’s spoons, pez, not ~wetherspoons~   
Pierre  
I guess I’ll come too   
If I stop being confused  
Max isn’t coming bc he’s hopping on his bf’s dick one last time but we’ll have a laugh anyway ladies   
Max  
DANIEL IS MOVING HE NEEDS MY HELP   
Charlotte  
True you can’t suck your own dick you need assistance   
Well actually   
I can. Mine you can just order over the internet   
Lando  
I love how we’ve reached a point that we’re now talking about dildos. Charlotte, god bless you my sweet lady, I love you.   
Charlotte  
I love you too, Lando. You’re my favourite❤️   
BITCH   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the return of everyone's favourite French teacher #justice4carole xx
> 
> kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore


	15. Tear Myself Apart - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warnings:  
>  Panic Attacks  
> Referenced/Implied Child Abuse  
> Nightmares  
> Derogatory Language  
> Slut shaming  
> Physical Assault  
> Vomiting**
> 
> Oh this is like PMBB all over again with all the sad content warnings...
> 
> no but legit, take note of them. if you're not currently in a frame of mind to deal with them, skip this. It's alright. Your mental wellbeing is always more important than anything and take care of yourselves my luvs, it's what Charlie boy would want 
> 
> :) x

**— Saturday 19th September —**

“Gonna miss you,” Charles whispered as he hugged Daniel tight. 

“I know, Chaos, I’m gonna miss you too. But you can come and see me whenever you want, alright? If you need a break, I’m half an hour away on the train, alright? You can come and see me.”

Charles nodded and kept his arms tight around Daniel’s neck. 

Daniel had dropped by to say bye to them (aside from Max) on his way to move in to uni, and now that Charles had Daniel in front of him, he didn’t want him to go. 

He’d become a piece of normality. A reassurance that no matter what was going on, he was always going to be there. Even on the nights when Daniel was at his own house, him being so close by made everything seem a bit less scary. 

Daniel was the voice of reassurance in a world where it felt like everything was against him.

Squeezing him tight, Daniel pressed a kiss to Charles’ cheek and pulled away.

“I’m not going away forever, okay? You’ll see me in a few weeks anyway, alright? I’m going to come back up for mine and Max’s anniversary anyway, and then once I’ve settled in to uni I’ll figure out a routine so that I can come up and see you guys whenever’s feasible. I’m going nowhere, alright, Chaos? Just moving to a new school.”

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Charles repeated with watery eyes.

“I can promise you I’m going to miss you guys so much more,” Daniel replied with the same watery eyes. “Fuckin’ hell I’m only moving half an hour away, why are we so emo?”

Charles laughed and brushed away his tears, before letting go. If he didn’t let go now, he never would.

Max was stood outside with Grace and as Daniel moved over to get hugged by Seb, he saw Grace take Max’s hand in hers and squeeze it tight. It made sense that Max was crying and emotional. This was his boyfriend, after all. Even if Daniel was only half an hour away, it was more than they were used to. 

Daniel was always only ever five minutes away or even in another room in their house. He was just always there. Getting used to him being gone would be _weird_.

“I’ll see you soon, Chaos, yeah?” Daniel said as he walked back to the door, raising his fist to bump it off Charles’.

“See ya,” Charles nodded and fist bump with him before turning around and burying himself under his Dad’s arm.

“I know, kid,” Seb whispered. Charles didn’t even need to say anything, simply needed his Dad to put his arm around him and squeeze him tight, run his hand up and down his arm in reassurance and kiss his hair.

“Go and get ready, we’re picking Charlotte up at 12,” Seb told him, kissing Charles’ hair. “It’s going to be alright, Charlie. He’s not going forever. He’ll come back.”

Charles took a shaky breath and nodded. Ducking out of Seb’s grip, he walked up to his bedroom and quietly shut the door, sliding down it until he could press his head into his knees. He still had a couple of hours before they went to fetch Charlotte, and now as he fell to the floor and curled into himself, the world started to get dark around him as the air was sucked out of the room.

Vaguely he could hear Valtteri in his bedroom across the hall, sounds banging and echoing around as he too started packing to leave too.

Everyone was leaving

Everyone always left him

_GET THE KIDS_

_Car wheels screeched_

_COVER THE KIDS_

_A gunshot echoed_

_Max’s hand was ripped away from Charles_

_NEIN! NEIN! CHARLES!_

_Max’s voice echoed in his ears as Charles slammed his hands over his head, protecting himself from the people that were grabbing him and throwing him aside_

“Charles! Charles, open the door! Open your door.”

His bedroom door was trying to open and Charles flung himself up, throwing himself over his bed and hid himself under his blanket between the side of his bed and the wall, as close to being under the bed as he could possibly muster to protect himself from the danger that could come.

 _Don’t breathe_

_Don’t move_

_Don’t make a noise_

_Don’t let them hurt you_

“Charles, can you come out from under the bed please? We’re not going to hurt you baby.”

Charles slammed his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut with his other arm wrapped over his head. 

Even laying on the floor under his bed was like being back in the box. The same familiar musty smell, the metallic tang of blood, the voices yelling in languages he couldn’t understand. 

“Charles please, no one’s going to hurt you, please baby, come out, we’re not going to hurt you, we want to look after you, come on baby.”

Curling tighter into himself, Charles tucked his knees as high as he could. 

_Don’t move_

_Don’t let them hurt you_

“Charlie, please, baby, please.”

It was getting gradually harder to breathe under the confines of both his constriction of being curled up and the confinement of being buried under his bed. 

However for as long as he stayed there, he was safe.

No one could rip anything away from him. If he stayed here, Max would come back. Max was safe. He was with Daniel. Daniel wouldn’t let anyone hurt Max. Max would come back. He knew where Max was.

Only...

Max was currently being zoomed away from him and suddenly Charles wasn’t sure that he knew where Max was anymore.

_No no no_

He needed Max

Max needed to come back

“Charles, please, baby, focus on us, listen to us. We’re going to look after you, darling.”

_HIDE THE KIDS_

_DON’T LET THEM OUT_

“Charles, come on, come on out baby, let me help you. It’s just me, just your Dad, your silly old Dad. Let me look after you. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Daddy,” Charles whimpered, just as the world went black.

There was something touching him when his eyes stopped being glued stuck. Whatever was touching him was soft and gently moving, his hair being brushed away from him and when his eyes fluttered open, his senses were attacked by the comforting smell of clean cotton and softly exchanged Finnish echoing around him.

“Tarvitseeko hän Max?”

“Minä en tiedä,” came the reply, more garbled language that Charles couldn’t understand. Shakily he pushed himself up, alarming the two having a conversation that he was conscious.

“Charlie, take it slow, nice and slowly, baby,” Seb’s voice cut through as Charles blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright sun streaming through and smacking his eyeballs. “Here, have some water, sweetheart.”

Charles felt his eyes falling shut again as he dropped his head onto Seb’s shoulder. A straw was placed between his lips and he took slow sips, knowing that if he didn’t, the darkness would rattle through him, screaming until Charles’ ears were bleeding, burying him under mountains of water that left him gagging for breath and drowning under the weight of it all.

“What happened, Liebling?”

“Max,” he whispered, voice heavy with emotion. “Where’s Max?”

“Max is with Daniel. He’s currently at Daniel’s student accommodation. Here, you can see a picture,” Seb told him and Charles took the phone into his hand. Max was sat on Daniel’s new bed and when Charles zoomed in to check, the edges weren’t blurry to indicate it had been edited to lie about where Max was. Max’s phone was on his knee, the screen lit up and Charles could just make out the words ‘Saturday 19th September’ and ‘10:43’. 

Not edited.

Max was okay.

He was alive and he was safe.

“He’s coming back tonight?” Charles asked and Seb nodded.

“He’s coming back with Grace, yes. They’re settling Daniel in, Grace is going to do him a food shop, take Max and Daniel out for lunch, and then Max is coming home. He’s coming home, Charlie.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. He should be home for about 6pm.”

“Yeah?”

Seb nodded and brushed his fingers over Charles’ cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“Max is coming home. He’s always going to come home. He’s just having some time on an adventure with Daniel and Daniel is taking care of him, okay? No one is going to hurt Max or keep him from you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to cancel with Charlotte? Tell her you’re not doing too good?” Seb asked and Charles contemplated it for a moment. 

He felt exhausted. His body was heavy. His eyes couldn’t stay open. His breath was loose. 

“I’ll go. I just won’t stay long. I can’t skip it, Dad. It’s Charlotte. She’s my best friend.”

“And she loves you. She wouldn’t want you to suffer through it if you’re not doing well, you know that.”

“I can go.”

“I think you shouldn’t, Charles. I don’t think it’s in your best interest.”

“I just need a nap. I’ll be fine,” Charles sleepily mumbled and shuffled down on his bed again, tugging his blankie between his fingers and tucking Tommy under his chin. 

He’d be there for Charlotte. He had to. She’d be there for him.

He just needed a sleep. Needed to reset.

Ten minutes to shut his mind down and stop it screaming.

It never worked.

_“There’s the little whore. Isn’t he cute? Bet you wanna fuck him, don’t you? Everyone does. You shouldn’t though. He’s riddled with disease. Don’t get too close!”_

_Charles froze as everyone stared at him._

_Everyone._

_Max_

_Charlotte_

_Daniel_

_His dads_

_Carole_

_Catherine_

_Lando, George, Alex_

_All of them looked horrified at seeing him alive._

_He knew that feeling all too well_

_“I can’t believe I let you put your mouth on me,” Alex spat at him. “Disgusting.”_

_“Try being related to him, makes you feel horrible,” Max followed up._

_“It’s his fault no one can be happy,” Daniel agreed and Max nodded, cuddling into Daniel tighter._

_“I’m so glad I never have to see him again, I only need you,” Max whispered, tilting Daniel’s jaw to kiss him._

_“Freak freak freak freak freak freak” echoed around him, chants falling to the very depths of his ears and wrapping around his heart, squeezing tight until it couldn’t beat any longer._

_He fell to the floor, grabbing at the nearest set of legs to try and tell the person that he couldn’t breathe._

_The legs kicked out at him, sending him flying across the hall and smashing into a wall._

_“Don’t touch me you whore,” Mick spat._

_Charles tried to scream but no noise would come out._

_“Max!” Charles silently screamed, eyes fixed on the way that Daniel had his hands tight around Max’s neck._

_Max broke away long enough to stare at Charles._

_Only it wasn’t **his** Max he was looking at. It was that version of Max he tried to forget. The one covered in bruises and cuts. Tear marks and stains. Mud and fist marks. Blood. _

_So much blood…_

_The Max he’d fought so desperately hard to protect that he’d failed again._

_“It’s your fault,” Max whispered and vanished before Charles’ eyes._

_There was nothing left of him. Just that stupid **stupid** red jumper that Max had worn. Tattered and teared and ripped, the sleeves bitten and sucked at until thread was tearing them apart. _

_Tearing them apart_

_“It’s your fault he’s gone!” Daniel screamed at him. His Dads screamed at him. Everyone screamed at him._

_“This is why no one wants you!”_

_“Dirty”_

_“Disgusting”_

_“Waste of space”_

_“Evil”_

_Evil_

_Evil_

_Evil_

_Why did that word hurt so much more?_

_He wasn’t evil. He wasn’t them._

_But maybe he was_

_Was he no better than them?_

_“CHARLES!”_

Charles threw himself up with a start, nearly falling off the bed with the force as the blanket was ripped away from him and something was shoved under his mouth to throw up into. 

“That’s it, Charles, you’re alright, you’re alright, kiddo,” they murmured, careful to keep distance as Charles threw up endlessly until it seemed like nothing was left in his body.

Whoever was around him made sure not to touch him, clearly more than aware that with the way his head was lost in the darkness right now, and with the way that all of his screaming thoughts seemed to be stemming from the pure… _delight_ that was his childhood, it was definitely the right thing. 

“Max is coming back, Charles. He’s always going to come back. He is with Daniel and you are at home with me, and your Dad, and Valtteri. We still love you, we’ll always love you. No one is going anywhere, everyone still loves you, you are such a good boy, focus on me, not what’s going in your head.”

It didn’t take long for him to stop throwing up, however everything was spinning violently and he couldn’t open his eyes without the feeling of falling overwhelming his soul. It was like he was on a waltz, being spun endlessly and no matter how hard he screamed and begged to be let go, no one listened. 

No one cared. 

It wasn’t about him. 

He didn’t get to make decisions. 

He wasn’t valid. 

He wasn’t important. 

“Charles, you need to sit up, stop hunching over, baby, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

It was as though the weight of expectations was pushing down onto him. The world, the words, the lives of everything and everyone trapping him under the weight of something that he couldn’t escape. 

“Come on, Charles, sit up, kiddo, I know you’re scared but-”

“Can’t,” he rasped out. He flinched and jerked away when someone touched him by his upper arms, moving him backwards so that he was laying on his side in case he started throwing up again to stop him choking. 

“Here, kiddo, more water.” The same straw from earlier was pushed between his lips and he took in some more water, fingers tightening on Tommy and his blanket to ground him as his pulse shook violently in his ears. 

His window was opened to shock Charles into feeling the coldness around him, hairs on his arms sticking on end as he took in deep breaths to try and fill the emptiness in his lungs. 

“Nice and slow, baby, don’t rush, take it slow. You’re alright, kiddo, you’re doing so well. Nice and slow, that’s it, baby.”

Blindly, he felt around for someone and he took their hand in his, finding that Tommy wasn’t enough to comfort him this time. 

He needed his Dad. 

“I’m here, kiddo, don’t worry.” 

Whichever Dad he was holding on to shifted on his bed and carefully rubbed at his back, their grip tight on his hand to reassure him that they weren’t going anywhere. 

“Your anxiety really did come out to play today, didn’t it, buddy?” 

Charles shakily nodded and swallowed, scrubbing at his eyes with Tommy’s fin as the tears continued falling. 

“What’s happened, buddy? Talk to us, what’s going on? Where’s this come from?”

“Dan left,” he whimpered and he heard his parents suck in a breath. 

“He’s not going forever, darling. He’s coming back. He said it himself. He’s coming back in three weeks exactly. He’s taking Max away for their anniversary. Daniel’s coming back, he’s moved to a new place to live for university. You know that. You know he’s safe. You know exactly where he is.”

“But Max.”

“I know. But he’s coming home too. Everything is going to be perfectly normal, we just have to get used to not seeing Daniel stick his hands down Max’s trousers and also them exchanging saliva every three seconds.”

He laughed through some sobs, turning onto his other side so he could bury his face in Dad’s chest. 

“No one is leaving you, darling. You’re stuck with us for the rest of your life. You’re my favourite Charles I’ve ever met.”

“Favourite child.”

“Hmm, I can’t say that. Your brothers will have a meltdown if they hear that,” his Dad replied and Charles smiled through the tears. 

It was still hard to breathe and the world was crumbling around him, but at least in his Dad’s arms he was safe. 

His Dad loved him. 

He wasn’t going to put him anywhere but in his arms. 

“I’ve got you, baby, I’m not letting anyone hurt you anymore.”

_“Daddy’s got you, baby, you’re going to be okay, you’re coming home now”_

His Dad had never broken a promise to him before, and he wasn’t going to now. 

At least Charles didn’t think so. 

“Get some more sleep, baby, it’s alright.”

“But Charlotte-”

“It’s okay, we’ll sort that out, kiddo.”

As much as he wanted to fight his Dad, he couldn’t. 

It was as though a parasite had wormed its way through his body, sucking at his livelihood and tearing him apart from the inside out, pulling at him until he could do nothing but surrender to the darkness and pray he didn’t get sucked in too far. 

_“Charlotte? Hi, it’s Seb-”_

So he had fallen asleep on Dad. Of course he had. 

It was always Dad. Always Sebastian. The one that Charles gave the most problems to was always the one to protect and save him from the darkness that would never normally let Charles survive. 

“Babe? Are you conscious?” Charles heard someone murmur moments later it seemed and he reluctantly opened his eyes. “Hey, darling boy, how are you?”

“Charlotte? What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“I wasn’t celebrating my birthday without my best friend,” she softly smiled, climbing onto Charles’ bed and falling down to press her forehead against his. “What happened babe?”

“Separation anxiety flared up,” he croaked and Charlotte’s sighed, pushing her hand through his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m really sorry. Do you want me to do anything?”

Charles shook his head and clumsily scrubbed at his eyes. 

“Go celebrate your birthday, I don’t wanna ruin it.”

“I’m celebrating with you, baby.”

“Charlotte, I look like shit.”

“Don’t we all? That’s the joy of it being my eighteenth. I can set the dress code.”

“All?” He questioned, blinking exhaustedly at her. 

“If you’re up for it, me, you, the gals and the lads, movie night, well, afternoon, with take away Spoons.”

“I don’t wanna ruin your birthday.”

“I’m either celebrating with you or with no one. You’re my best friend, and I’m not celebrating my eighteenth without you.”

“I don’t know if I’m up for it,” Charles admitted and Charlotte shrugged. 

“That’s alright. I still want to be with you, check you’re alright and that. If your anxiety is around your separation, you’re going to want to be with people and I want to be there for you if you’ll let me.”

“It’s your birthday-”

“Exactly. You can’t tell me what to do,” Charlotte shrugged and Charles sighed and fell back onto his pillow. 

“You’re the worst, do you know that?”

“Yep. Now come on babe, we’re going to eat burgers,” she told him, rolling off the bed and extending her hand out for Charles to take. 

“I can’t.”

“Yeah you can. You can eat some chips. You can’t miss Pierre’s first Spoons experience.”

Charlotte stood by the side of his bed and kept her hand outstretched, waiting for him to respond. 

“You’re a stubborn little git,” he grumbled.

Charlotte grinned and winked, “I know. Now come on.”

Reluctantly, Charles pushed himself up on shaky arms and legs and took Charlotte’s hand in his, still holding Tommy between his fingers as he walked down the stairs with her. He had to let go of Charlotte so he could clutch onto the handrail to stop himself from toppling down them, Tommy tucked into his pyjama bottoms pocket and then took Charlotte’s hand again. 

As they walked from the stairs to the living room, Charles could hear the sound of laughter. Two girls were arguing with someone else, Alex, maybe, all of them laughing as George could be heard yelling for Lando to sit down. 

“There’s people that love you, Charles,” Charlotte whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him as tight as she could. 

With every pull of laughter coming from his friends, it was as though another grain of that darkness was flicked away. 

It was still there, bugging him and painting his skin as though he’d rolled in the sand after spending years in the ocean. The little grains stuck to his skin and made him feel prickly and no matter how much he brushed away one bit of hurt, another dozen remained. 

But it was something at least. Something that was a step of progress and though he still felt absolutely exhausted and his body was so incredibly heavy, it calmed his racing mind to be surrounded by people that would distract him. People that wouldn’t leave him. 

The feeling he was currently experiencing was different to his general anxiety, he was realising. Whereas normally on those days he couldn’t even be touched without wanting to scream, now he found himself being almost magnetised to them, a pull that he couldn’t explain that was screaming at him to go and sit with the people that cared about him. The people that wouldn’t leave him.

His _friends_.

Friends cared about each other and they wanted him to be okay. 

“Your Dad even let us bring the pitchers home with us,” Charlotte grinned and Charles looked across at her. 

“What?”

“Me and your Dad, I got to spend some _alone_ time with Seb and holy shit Charles I enjoyed myself.”

“Stop flirting with my Dad,” he whined as Charlotte waggled her eyebrows at him. 

“He picked me up, I put in the GC for all the lads to say what they want from Spoons and then we picked it up and we bought pitchers too because if we’re exposing Pierre to Wetherspoons, he’s having the full Spoons experience, pitchers included. And so me and your Dad bought like six pitchers because he said if we bought any more he wasn’t going to let me back in his Ferrari, and I’ll take any opportunity to ride with your Dad.”

“That better not have been an innuendo about riding my Dad,” Charles warned her as Charlotte played the picture of innocence.

“Me? Never, baby boy. Although given the opportunity-”

“You’re gay! And so is he!”

“Cancels each other out, makes us both straight. Two wrongs make a right, Charles, works the same with people being gay,” Charlotte laughed as Charles mock gagged. 

“No it doesn’t!”

“No it really doesn’t,” Charlotte agreed, “But it made you smile and that’s all I care about.”

Charles looked down at his socks as a tiny smile worked its way onto his lips and he shook his head. 

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah you do. You deserve a chance at happiness. Pierre deserves a chance to make you happy.”

“You know?”

“No,” Charlotte murmured, “I guessed. He was pretty worried about you.”

“You think he deserves a chance?”

“I think you need to be ready,” she countered and Charles nodded. 

He still didn’t think he was ready. He still felt like he was learning who Pierre was. Learning how to not be that show off brat that everyone knew him as and instead just being the kid that deserved a chance to be happy. To not be the kid that was focused around money but rather to be the kid that focused around finding himself and not having to _find_ a reason to be happy but rather have happiness find him. 

“He deserves a chance,” Charles said and Charlotte simply smiled. She tugged him down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“So do you, babe. You deserve all the chances.”

Tying their fingers together again, Charles let Charlotte tug him through to the living room. 

“There’s my favourite boy,” Lando grinned and made grabby hands at Charles. 

Charles sunk down onto the floor next to Lando and let him wrap Charles in his arms. 

“You alright?” Lando murmured, barely loud enough for even Charles to hear.

“Anxiety,” Charles answered and Lando nodded. 

“Yeah that’s a bitch.”

Dropping his head onto Lando’s shoulder, Charles yawned behind his hand as he waved at the two girls that Charlotte dropped between. 

“Hi again,” Charles mumbled through his yawn. “I promise I know how to act like a real human being.”

“Are you breathing, Charles?” Cate asked and Charles frowned before nodding. “Then you’re a real human being. Nice to see you again, sweetcheeks.”

“Hi Charles,” Dilara murmured, waving at him. “How are you?”

“I’m not doing too good, but I’m getting there,” he told her and she carefully reached over to pat his knee. 

“I hope you do. I hope things brighten up for you.”

Charles grinned as he watched Charlotte wrap her arm around Dilara’s neck and pull her in, pressing a kiss to her temple that had a vicious blush erupt across Dilara’s cheeks. 

She really was a sweet girl, Charles thought, and just like Max. 

Wait

If Dilara was like Max…

Did that make Charlotte Dan? Or was Charlotte Charles? And if Charlotte was Charles and Dilara was Max, that was a whole nasty thought experiment that Charles _definitely did not_ want to fall down.

“You good Charles?” Cate asked when she saw Charles’ face change. Charles shook his head slowly. 

“Incest is disgusting.”

“Where the fuck did that come from?!” Charlotte screamed as Charles threw his hands up. Lando was crumpled up in laughter beside him, his shoulder shaking so hard that Charles had to lift his head off it before he fell. Alex and George were both staring at Charles incredulously and Pierre just looked so incredibly confused. 

“My brain, Lots, it just does that sometimes.”

“Well it needs to stop!”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried to get my brain to act normal?!” Charles playfully argued back whilst Lando’s bright laughter continued to echo around the living room. “Girl, if my brain acted normal we’d be in Wetherspoons right now and not in my parents living room!”

“I still don’t understand Wetherspoons…” Pierre murmured as Lando, Alex and Cate all started to chant ‘SPOONS SPOONS SPOONS SPOONS’ loudly.

“Your English culture education begins today, Pierre,” George solemnly told him, “How do we feel about a PowerPoint, ladies?”

Alex groaned as the rest of them cheered, whilst Pierre (and Dilara, bless her) started to look more scared and confused by the second. 

Charles never thought about how his brain was slowly calming down. All he could focus on was his makeshift family he’d created (that was missing Max but still, he’d be back. He’d always come back) and the people cared about him enough to change up their plans and lounge in Charles’ living room in sweatpants and pyjamas, with a pile of takeaway pub food and pitchers of alcohol that Charles still had no idea what was in there, without question. 

“I’m scared,” Pierre mouthed across at him. 

“You should be,” Charles grinned brightly back, yawning still but content. 

It was always better having family around, he thought. 

Never once did he take his eyes off Pierre as he grinned and laughed at George’s presentation.

**— Sunday 20th September —**

“Is that it then?” Charles asked as he put the last of the boxes down on Valtteri’s new desk.

“Yep,” Kimi said. “Thank you for sacrificing your beauty to sweat and carry things for us. We appreciate it, your highness.”

“Anything for the peasants. I’m a... Max what’s that loving word?”

“Benevolent.”

“I’m a benevolent ruler,” Charles grinned, whilst both his parents rolled their eyes.

“If you’re anything, you’re an omniscient ruler,” Valtteri countered.

“What’s that mean?”

“All knowing. You know more gossip and know more people than the entirety of this family put together,” Valtteri explained.

“Oh yeah fair. What’s the other one? Omniscient, benevolent and?”

“Omnipotent. All powerful,” Max said as he was unpacking Valtteri’s laptop and charger. 

“I reckon I could be omnipotent,” Charles grinned, “That makes me God, right?”

“That’s not how it works you moron,” Max sighed.

“Twins, don’t start,” Seb told them, cutting off a fight before it could even begin.

“And that’s why I’ve moved to the other side of the country,” Valtteri deadpanned.

“If you’re not careful I’m leaving them both with you,” Seb threatened and Valtteri held his hands up in surrender. “It’s your fault, you’re the one who wanted siblings. You got the twins, they’re your responsibility.”

“I was four, I cannot be-”

“If you finish that sentence I’m chucking you out the window,” Seb interrupted and Valtteri rolled his eyes. 

“Just saying. It’s not my fault.”

“I’m ignoring you now,” Seb said. 

“Suddenly I feel like we are the favourite kids again,” Charles offered only to get a look off of Seb that very much said he was on thin ice and ready to be chucked out the window himself. 

“I’ll go sort this out,” Charles said, picking up a box of belongings that needed taking to the kitchen. 

The kitchen was shared with Valtteri’s five other flat mates with each of them having a cupboard with a number on relating to their bedroom, and so Charles knew which cupboard he needed to put Valtteri’s stuff in. He smiled to himself when he realised that one of the shelves was definitely too high for Valtteri, and whilst he could be a good little brother and lower it for him, he could also put the stuff that Valtteri needed the most on top where he couldn’t reach, and that would give him way too much happiness to know his brother was struggling. 

So he did just that. 

He had to go up on his tip-toes slightly to reach fully and he pushed Valtteri’s espresso as far back as he could reach. 

It’s not like he was sticking around to see his brother after today so as long as he wasn’t in the vicinity when Valtteri found out what Charles had done, he was fine.

“Do you need a hand?”

Charles turned around and trailed his eyes over the boy stood in the doorway. 

“Nah, I’m good,” Charles shrugged, turning back to his task and putting the last few things away. Isä, Max and Valtteri were going to a Tesco just up the street whilst Charles went off with Dad to _chat_ , but they’d brought a few things up already so Charles was being a good little brother and putting those things away. He was doing a good job anyway until this guy turned up staring at him. 

“Which room you in?” the guy asked. 

“I’m not.”

“So you broke in?”

“Yeah I broke in to stock the cupboards, yeah, you know like a normal person would,” Charles replied back. “Love how you automatically assumed I’m a criminal and not that I’m helping someone move in, weirdo.”

“Charles stop arguing with people!” Seb’s voice echoed down the hallway and Charles grinned. 

“I’m not! I’m just pointing out that people are stupid!”

“CHARLES STOP IT!”

“So you’re Charles then. You must be Valtteri’s little brother,” the guy grinned and Charles nodded. 

“Well done. You’re not stupid.”

The guy laughed and moved away from the kitchen door to lean against the counters, watching as Charles pottered around tidying up the mess he’d made. 

“I’m Rowan, anyway.”

“Don’t care,” Charles smirked, “So you can take your eyes off my ass, alright? I’ve already got someone.”

“Shame. You’re pretty.”

“And not yours. So back it up, mate, or I’ll tell big brother. Do you even know how old I am?”

The guy went stock-still, eyes blooming wide and if Charles had to guess, the answer was no. The guy did indeed have no idea how old Charles was or if he was even legal. 

“Yeah, maybe you should check who it is you’re flirting with before you stare at your new flatmate’s little brother’s ass. Emphasis on the _little_ because I’m his _youngest_ brother.”

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Yeah, you should be. It also shouldn’t take me _threatening_ you for you to understand that when someone says ‘take your eyes off my ass’ it means it. I don’t want you to leer at me, it makes me uncomfortable. Read the fucking room, you moron and learn some basic human decency.”

Charles slammed the cupboard door shut after that and walked back off, heading down the corridor to Valtteri’s room with slightly shaky hands. 

“Isä outside?” Charles asked as he got into Valtteri’s bedroom. 

Seb turned around at the slightly shaky tone of Charles’ voice and stared at him. 

“What happened?”

“Just a guy. It’s nothing. Nothing bad happened, but you know how it is with me.”

“Was it Rowan?” Valtteri asked, causing Charles to frown. “He’s weird. The girls on the chat don’t like him, apparently they think he’s creepy. What did you do?”

“He kept staring at me and I told him not to, and then I basically said to him are you even sure I’m legal and he realised he could get in a lot of trouble and that was that. Is Isä outside? I just need some air.”

“Val, will you and Max be alright on your own until Isä gets back? I’m going to take Charles for a walk,” Seb asked and Valtteri quickly agreed. 

“Yeah we’ll be fine, don’t worry. I promise not to chuck Max out the window.”

“I’m not making the same promise,” Max offered as Seb scrubbed his hands over his face. 

“No talking about your sex life. Seriously. If you do, Valtteri will chuck you out the window and I’ll tell the courts that it’s completely justified because you’re an idiot,” Seb told him. Max was absentmindedly tracing his fingers over the hickey on his throat and Seb stared pointedly at it. 

“Seriously, Max? You and him can’t go one day without him making your neck look like a bloody warzone?”

“If you think my neck is bad you should see the state of the rest of me.”

“And that is our cue to leave, Charlie!” Seb said, putting his hands on Charles’ shoulders and steering him out of Valtteri’s student accommodation. 

They walked in a companionable silence for a while, neither of them saying anything as Charles unzipped his jacket so that he could breathe a bit easier.

He was still a bit on edge, feeling shaky and out of sorts from the bad anxiety day previously, and combined with the way that this _Rowan_ had made him feel, being confined under his jacket was only sending his anxiety more rampant. 

“You alright after that?” Seb asked as they wandered the streets of Bristol, not going anywhere important but wandering enough that they were on a weird little journey together. 

Sighing shakily, Charles nodded, “Yeah ‘cause when I told him that he needed to be more respectful, he apologised and that. It kinda just fucked me up a bit but I’m alright. I think it was one of those things that because I wasn’t expecting anyone to turn up in the kitchen and then he was weird, it just freaked me out.”

“But you’re alright? It’s not triggering anything?”

“Nah. I think if he came closer to me then it would’ve but because he kept his distance and was just being creepy, it didn’t actually _upset_ me, if that makes sense.”

“It does, absolutely. Do you want to talk about it more or-”

“Nah, it’s fine, honestly. I just needed to get away from it for a bit.”

Seb nodded and they continued to walk, heading towards a little coffee shop and ordering some drinks. Seb grimaced when Charles ordered something that seriously rivalled even the Chaotic Special that Jamie made him, knowing full well he couldn’t say anything without Charles going into a full on spiel about the health benefits of drinking what seemed like a metric tonne of sugar in one go. 

There was none, but Charles had this weird knack of making himself sound so incredibly convincing when you thought he shouldn’t be able to, and it was _annoying_.

“You’re driving home with your Isä. I’m not having you in my car,” Seb told him as Charles started chugging it. “Slow down you little idiot, don’t drink it all in one go, you’ll burn your mouth.”

“Eh, maybe it’ll stop me running my mouth.”

“I don’t think anything could stop you, kiddo. It’s what you’re best at.”

He carried his drink back out, scrubbing at his eyes to try and wake himself up a bit.

“Your Dad said you slept the entire drive over,” Seb said. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I was just tired. After everything yesterday with the panic attack and the nightmares and hanging out with Charlotte and that lot, I was exhausted. I needed to be with them don’t get me wrong, but I was just really tired.”

“I know you only had therapy on Wednesday, but are you sure you don’t want to book an emergency appointment?”

“I’m alright,” Charles shrugged. “It’s a long drive, Dad. I’m tired. It was me and Isä and Max for three hours, and Max was jabbering on about Dan’s accommodation and about school and I was bored of listening to him and I was _tired_. I’m okay.”

“You know we’ll pay for emergency appointments, doesn’t matter how many you need.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m alright. Did me good actually to try and power through it. I don’t know why the separation anxiety hit me with Dan and it’s not hitting me with Valtteri though.”

“Probably because Max left with Dan. Your anxiety has always been around Max,” Seb shrugged and Charles had to agree. His Dad was probably onto something there. “You need to bring this up with Ada though.”

“Yeah I know. I just don’t want an emergency appointment. I don’t feel bad enough for that. I didn’t even have a nightmare last night.”

“You were probably so exhausted you couldn’t.”

“Yeah but I fell asleep during one of the movies too-”

“Mentally exhausted, Charles. You fell asleep because you were drained from being emotional and anxious. Last night when you went to bed, you were out like a light. I’ve never seen you fall asleep so fast.”

“I guess. It was good hanging out with them though. It was nice.”

“They’re a good set of kids. Can’t believe it took until you and Max were nearly eighteen for you both to find a good set of friends.”

“You never liked Antonio and Robert and that, did you?”

“Not really,” Seb admitted, “Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t _happy_ that you were going out drinking all the time and having sex and partying, but as long as you were _behaving_ yourself, it was fine. But Antonio and that, they made you into such a party boy and a player and you became such a different person because it’s what _they_ wanted. I like the Charles you are without them.”

“I nearly kissed Pierre the other day,” Charles told him, changing the subject away from the shitty character he’d become around those ‘friends’. 

“Did you really? Why didn’t you?”

“I’m not ready, Dad. I want to be with him and I like him, but I’m not ready. I think because I had to slow down and find friends, it made me realise that I want to take things slow with Pierre.”

“You like him?”

“Yeah. He came over the other day and he was taking some pictures of me because he needs them for his portfolio and that, and we went to the fields and he took this really good photo of me and after we was laying there and looking up at the sky and looking at each other and I just… he touched me, Dad. Only my hand and my face, but he touched me and I felt _okay_. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t uncomfortable. I wanted to kiss him so bad.”

Seb didn’t say anything for a moment, and Charles looked over to see the barely concealed excitement on his Dad’s face. 

“What?”

“You never talk about this sort of stuff. It’s exciting. I know you’re nearly eighteen but you’re still my baby and it’s exciting. You having a crush on someone, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Did you know about Alex?”

“Oh yeah. Your Dad told me about him. About how you accidentally broke your own heart.”

“Boys suck,” Charles sighed, nodding slowly.

“Yep, that’s the truth. Did I ever tell you about the boy I had my first crush on?”

“I don’t think so.”

They kept walking for a bit longer, sipping on their drinks as they found a little bench to sit on that looked over the river. 

“His name was Jonas. I was thirteen and only just realising I was looking at boys the way all my friends were looking at girls. He was two years above me at school and I was _infatuated_ with him,” Seb told him and Charles folded his legs up underneath him on the bench. Seb was looking out at the river, folded forward slightly and leaning his elbows on his knees as Charles stared at him. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I knew I couldn’t do anything. He was the popular boy, kind of like Dan. He was really smart, really funny, really kind. I thought he was the cutest boy in the world. The biggest issue was that he had a girlfriend. You’ve got to remember, Charlie, this was the mid 80s, it wasn’t as easy for us to explore our sexuality as it is for you guys. I spent the better part of a year wishing he’d pay attention to me and crying every night that I didn’t know what to do.”

“When did you first kiss a boy?”

“I was… seventeen I think? It was a stupid end of high school party and we were playing dares and I got dared to kiss this random lad. No idea who he was now, but that was the first time I kissed someone. You can imagine why we was so surprised when our seven year old’s teacher pulls us aside to asking us if we can have a chat with our youngest about him chasing boys and girls around the playground and get him to stop kissing them,” Seb told him, staring at him pointedly.

“Yeah well, gotta build a reputation from when I’m young,” Charles laughed, sticking his tongue out slightly as Seb dug in his pocket to grab a tissue. He held Charles’ chin between his fingers as he scrubbed at his mouth like he used to when Charles was a kid, wiping away the chocolate sauce and cream that Charles somehow _always managed_ to get messed around his face. 

“What I’m trying to tell you, liebling, is that it doesn’t matter how long it takes or when you first kiss someone or when you are ready to date someone. I dated people before I met your Dad, but when I met him, I knew he was the one. You don’t need to rush anything or yourself to be ready for Pierre if you’re not. You’re _so young_ , Charlie, you really don’t need to push yourself too much. I know you said it does you good to push through things, but don’t force yourself to be with anyone just to prove a point to other people.”

“I know. I really do like him, but I’m also good with taking my time. It’s nice just getting to _know_ him.”

“Hmm, he’s an interesting boy, isn’t he?” Seb nodded. “You gonna show me these photos Pierre took then?”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Charles searched for Pierre’s name on his Instagram, before passing it over so that Seb could scroll through his account and look at what Pierre had taken. 

“He’s very talented. Got a very good eye for it.”

“Yeah, he took some that I put on mine too, here pass it back.” Charles tapped on to his own profile and shifted around to sit beside his Dad rather than sitting facing him. 

“Is that my Ferrari?!” Seb asked, pressing on the photo of Charles walking away from his Ferrari. 

“Um, no?”

“Your caption literally says it’s my Ferrari!”

“Nooooo, you’re blind, Dad, you can’t read,” Charles cheeked. 

“You’re such a little shit, mein Gott, Charles.”

“That’s why you love me, Dad.”

“I’m going to chuck you in this river,” Seb hit back, whacking Charles’ knee lightly. “You’ve always been my little troublemaker, haven’t you? Even when you say that year thirteen is going to be a _fresh start_ , you’ll still cause problems, hmm?”

Charles looked down at his feet and dug his trainer into the gravel, pushing it around slightly, “You heard then?”

“I got a phone call from your Head of Year, yes. Told me that you can’t get put on behavioural report because you’re now year thirteen, and they understand that it was a difficult situation for you but if you get in fights, they’re not going to keep letting you off. You will get suspended, and we don’t want that, alright?”

“Yeah I know, Dad. I promise I won’t-”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, kiddo. You always promised to never lie to us, this extends into that.”

“Yeah about that… the whole lying thing…”

“Charles, what have you done?” Seb sighed leaning back and looking at him with pure exasperation. 

“Nothing bad. Well, I dunno, maybe it is. Can I have my phone?” 

Seb frowned as Charles took the phone back, watching him scroll through with shaky fingers and fear threatening to cause him to throw up the overly sugared drink that he was now heavily regretting. 

“You know when I was in year eleven, I kept vanishing and when you asked me about it, I just told you that I was going parties and stuff?” Charles waited for him to nod before he tapped onto something. “I was lying. I was here.”

Charles spun the phone and turned his volume up, letting Seb watch the video of Charles standing on the stage. 

“Charles what is this?” Seb asked, taking the phone off him again and watching as Charles walked around, feet kicking out with each step in the heeled boots.

“I did the school production. It was Kinky Boots and I played the main character. His name’s Charlie.”

“When was this?”

“April 2019.”

“Why are you telling me now? Why has it taken until _now_?”

“I thought you’d be mad at me,” Charles whispered, nervously scrubbing his hands over his thighs, “You hated me being a show off.”

“This is different, Charlie! We would’ve been so proud of you for this. You being a show off wasn’t about this sort of stuff, it was about the way that you always had to be the centre of attention when we was trying to be proud of your brothers to other people. I’ve bragged about you getting into LCF to anyone that will _listen_ , why the hell would you think I’d be mad at you for doing what you’re amazing at?”

“I don’t know,” Charles whispered. 

“You loved being on the stage as a kid and we _always_ went to your shows. I _always_ told everyone at work about how good you was. I’ve never once done anything but support you.”

“You hated me doing art-”

“No. I hated you not taking it seriously. You went from being this really happy and involved kid, telling us everything you wanted to do, to not doing your schoolwork, being on behaviour report, getting drunk every week and sleeping around. You’ve always had so much potential and you refuse to let people tell you because you only compare yourself against Max. We’ve always told you that you and Max, for a set of twins, are nothing alike and you can’t compare yourself against him.”

“But you compare me against Max!”

“I’d compare your behaviour! Not your interests, kid! I’ve always wanted you to be a happy kid doing what you love, and all you’d do was get drunk and sleep around. I _know_ you was having fun but there is _so much potential_ for you and it was frustrating for me to see you throw it away because you was being a brat. I wish I could’ve seen you on that stage, I wish I could’ve seen you doing this show because I know you would’ve been amazing. You’re such a talented boy and I’m so sorry that you think I’d have been mad at you for this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry for making you think you couldn’t talk to me about this stuff. But I will always be so damn proud of you no matter what you do because you’re _my baby_ , alright?”

“Even when I steal your Ferrari?”

“As long as you don’t drive it you can do whatever you want. I’m not putting you on my insurance.”

Charles scrubbed at his eyes and fell onto his Dad’s shoulder, shifting closer to him as he looked at the phone screen still lit up with the smile of a boy that looked _happy_. Content. 

Like he wanted to stay alive. 

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for being an absolute shit over the years. Like aside from all the nightmares and panic attacks, I mean everything else. For not talking to you and for kicking off over things that didn’t matter.”

“You’re a teenager, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t acting like this.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

“Seriously, Charlie, nothing to apologise for. You’re still my little boy and we knew when we got you that things wouldn’t be easy. But that’s what being a parent is. It’s being there for your kid when they need you and understanding that sometimes they’re mad at you, sometimes they’re mad at the world and sometimes they’re mad at nothing because that’s what it’s like being a teenager.”

“I love you, Dad,” Charles whispered as Seb ran his fingers through Charles’ hair.

“I love you too, kiddo. You got more videos of you doing this show?”

“I think so. I’ll ask Darbus,” Charles told him. “I’m actually thinking about auditioning for this year’s production.”

“Do it,” Seb said without preamble, “I want my boy to sell that show out.”

Seb continued to look through the few videos and pictures that Charles had on his phone whilst Charles sat in silence, staring out at the river rolling along in front of them.

There was still a lot that he didn’t understand or know what to do about. Part of him fearing that he couldn’t stand on that stage or have people watch him. He knew that the chances of him being able to kiss Pierre were slim and he knew that when it came to dating someone, it wasn’t likely to work well. 

He broke hearts. 

He broke lives. 

He broke himself. 

He was a shell of the boy he used to be. 

Maybe he couldn’t do it. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he needed to ignore the boy that suffered and try and be the boy that won. 

The boy that won the boy. 

The boy that won the happy ending. 

If Pierre deserved a chance to make him happy, he deserved the chance to let himself be happy. 

That whole nightmare shit? Yeah… 

Being happy probably wasn’t going to work considering he was still battling all of that mess, but it was worth a shot…

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Tarvitseeko hän Max?” - Does he need Max?  
> “Minä en tiedä," - I don't know
> 
> kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore


	16. Strong - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not in a good head space
> 
> Banged this out
> 
> Bon appetite
> 
> **CW: Implied suicidal thoughts  
>  Panic attack  
> Reminder of past abuse (not detailed but referenced)**

**— Tuesday 22nd September 2020 —**

**— Friday 25th September 2020 --**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 10:24  
Are you in today?   
  
yeah about that   
  
MAY have overslept   
  
and by may I mean I did   
  
so TECHNICALLY I am supposed to be   
  
however LEGALLY I am still in bed   
  
i had a free first period anyway so its not too bad ill just be late for second period   
  
Max is here though?   
  
yes but max is a freak of nature and wakes up at like 7am   
  
im coming in I just need to work out which bus I gotta get   
  
Why isn’t your dad driving you?   
  
dad = work   
  
isa I have no idea where he is   
  
…   
  
How have you lost your Dad?   
  
I DON’T KNOW   


Max   
  
**Today** 10:30  
Isä is at Dad’s work   
  
why?   
  
Meeting about us   
  
so why aren’t we there?   
  
Dad wouldn’t let us go   
  
👀👀👀  
  
that’s suspicious   
  
I think he’s got to video call w HER lawyers so he don’t want us there in case the lawyers get any bright ideas  
  
you got textiles second?   
  
yeah   
  
I’ll tell Amy nd Charlotte you’re late   
  
thank uuuuuuuuuuuu   


Knocking on the door, Charles threw it open dramatically and walked in to his second period textiles class.

“I may be an hour late but praise the Lord I’m here!” Charles grinned, his arms thrown up dramatically as Amy turned to give him a very unimpressed look.

“I’m seriously not very happy right now, Charles,” she told him, “Just because you get top marks, it doesn’t mean you can act irresponsible and turn up with less than thirty minutes left of your lesson. You’re playing catch up this weekend and if I don’t have all of your designs on my desk Monday morning _before tutor_ , so that’s _before_ 8:50am, you’ve got a lunchtime detention, understood?”

“Yes Amy,” Charles replied, biting at the inside of his lip to keep the cheeky smirk from blossoming. “Promise I’ll have them on your desk.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face, I’m serious, Charles. This isn’t impressive. You’ve been back at school ten days and this is the second time you’ve been reprimanded for your behaviour. It’s not funny.”

“It’s the first time I’ve been late though, like it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll catch up.”

“No, Charles. It is a big deal. You’re year thirteen now, I expect better from you. If we have to have this conversation again, it’s going to be brought up with your parents at parents evening, understood?”

“Yeah whatever,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and going to sit down at his desk. 

“Wipe the attitude off your face too.”

“Didn’t even have one until you started having a go at me.”

“You turn up an hour late and don’t apologise. You disrupt the lesson and then think you don’t need reprimanding. This isn’t funny, Charles,” Amy sternly said, intense teacher glare following his movements as he scoffed.

“Fucking bullshit,” he muttered under his breath, only just caught by Charlotte who spluttered in surprise.

“Do you want to share what you just said with the class, Charles?” Amy asked and Charles shook his head.

“Nah I’m good thanks. I’m just going to get on with my work.”

Charles lent on his hand as he looked across to Charlotte who’d buried her face in his jumper sleeve to stop herself from laughing and getting in trouble. He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at her when she caught his eye. 

Charlotte flipped him off, laughing slightly when Charles whispered, “Bitch.”.

“You’re in so much trouble.”

“Talk about an overreaction though! Like what the hell?”

“I mean you probably should’ve said sorry for being late.”

“I ended up getting an Uber by the way. No way was I paying for the _bus_.”

“Charles! Charlotte! Stop gossiping and get on with your work or I’ll separate you! Final warning!” Amy shouted across the classroom and Charles instantly burst into laughter.

“What the hell is your problem with me today? You’re so grouchy.”

“Year thirteen, Charles! You’re nearly eighteen. I’m seriously tired of this ‘I don’t need to do work I’ve already gotten into uni’ behaviour. Clean up your act or get out of my classroom.”

Rolling his eyes again, Charles lay down with his head on his right elbow and flicked to a random page in his sketchbook, starting to draw out a design concept for the brief. Amy had written on the board that they were supposed to be doing research based on an artist whose work they wanted to include in a child’s dress. Instead of starting with the research, Charles decided to draw out a concept that he liked the idea of (not that he knew what the idea was, he was kinda definitely winging it) and would work backwards, putting the design into place and then figuring out how an artist’s style could be incorporated into it.

He’d probably get in trouble for not doing it the way he was supposed to, but he was already in a lot of trouble for his behaviour that morning so he might as well keep racking up that misbehaviour misconduct.

Seb wouldn’t be impressed if Charles managed to get a misconduct suspension for poor behaviour, but still. 

He almost saw it as a challenge to see how quickly school would suspend him. Gotta keep his brain going with how boring everything else was at the minute. 

It was either that or accept that things were a bit wobbly in his brain lately and he didn’t exactly want to dwell on it. He’d not had his next therapy session yet and whilst part of him knew that he really should get an emergency appointment to talk about what was going on, the other part of him felt like he didn’t need it. The more he dwelled on the past, the harder it got to move on. He was tired of being dragged down by the past, by the nightmares and the horror of his history. 

_Fuck_ he just wanted to be able to hold someone’s hand…

He didn’t want to flinch when George moved too quickly next to him in English class. 

He wanted to be able to have a guy look at him and not have his brain immediately start yelling ‘ **RED FLAG RED FLAG** ’. 

He wanted to hold _Pierre’s_ hand.

“You alright?” Charlotte whispered and Charles nodded. 

“Yeah why?”

“You just went really quiet and your face got all sad.”

“Nah I’m alright. Just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“So’s everything in my life,” he shrugged and scrubbed his hands across his face. “How are we only back a week and I already want to drop out.”

“You always want to drop out, that’s you and school. You’ve always hated it.”

“Hate it extra now. I’m so tired.”

Charlotte didn’t say anything else, simply shifted her chair over to press her head against Charles’ and put her arm around her waist. 

“Tired as in sleepy or tired as in tired of being alive?” she tentatively asked. 

Charles sighed and closed his eyes, “Is there a difference? Because I don’t know anymore.”

“Just stay alive, that would be enough,” she whispered to make him laugh.

“You’re such a Hamilton stan.”

“Made you giggle though. I’ll do anything to make you laugh. Please, Charles, talk to Ada or something because you’re worrying me again.”

“I’m not going to do anything, Charlotte. I promise. I’m just tired of being alive sometimes. I don’t think I even want to die. I just want this version of my life to _fuck off_ ,” his voice broke, “I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to die, I just don’t want to keep getting stuck in this fucking circle of self-hatred and not liking who I am.”

Before Charlotte could say anything, he pushed his chair out and stood up, muttering an “I’m going bathroom” and slipped out of the classroom, ignoring Amy telling him to get back. He walked to the bathrooms and slipped into one of the stalls. Shutting the door behind him, Charles pressed his hands to his face and leaned his head back against the door, taking deep breaths to stop the tears from falling.

Max   
  
**Today** 11:48   
You just walked into the tech toilets by any chance   
  
yeah?   
  
What you doing  
  
about to have a mental breakdown wbu   
  
Having a mental breakdown   
  
lit, wanna have one together?   
  
Always. You coming to me or am I coming to you?   
  
ill come to you, left or right?  
  
left   
  


Charles slid out of the stall and knocked on the one next door, pushing it open when the lock clicked. He slid in alongside Max, smiling at his twin who looked just as not okay as him.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Charles asked through shaky breaths. 

“Had tutor, finished early so here I am. What’s happened with you?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “Brain just decided that we need to have a cry. I was talking to Charlotte and Amy had a go at me and now I’m crying.”

“You’re crying ‘cause Amy had a go at you?”

“No, I’m just crying. I was telling Charlotte about how I don’t want to kill myself, I just want this portion of my life to be over.”

“Yeah I remember that feeling,” Max nodded as tears streamed down his face. “It’s one of the hardest things. Just trying to get past it. Feels like a never-ending spiral of fucking darkness and bad shit and you’re stuck and you can’t get past it.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Charles agreed. “What’s up with you?”

“I miss Dan and um I just spoke to Dad and I really wish I could hug Dan right now or at least talk to him but he’s on a, um, er, Freshers thing and I don’t want to disturb him because he’s having a good time and I don’t him to feel guilty about not being here just ‘cause I’m sad. It’s not his fault. It’s just this stupid adjustment to him not being here is hard.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Yeah,” Max whispered and buried his face in Charles’ shoulder, hugging his little brother tight. The twins stood there silently for a while, the only sound being their sniffling as they tried to stop the tears from falling, hugging each other close and finding reassurance in each other like they used to as little boys. 

“What did Dad want?” Charles eventually said, pulling away from Max and wiping Max’s cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie before doing the same to his own.

“He won the case. She’s officially banned from us for the rest of our lives. We can hear things about her but she can’t hear anything about us. We’ve not got to go to the courts or talk with judges or lawyers. The previous charges and our mental well-being are enough evidence that we don’t have to go and do anything. Apparently, me trying to kill myself and you being a suicide risk means that we aren’t in the correct mental state, and Dad argued that it would cause me too much trauma and you having a PTSD attack the other day means that we really can’t have contact.”

“And _him_?”

“They still don’t know about _that_ guy. I don’t think they ever will. She’s not saying anything about him so as long as he can’t find us it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about _him_ and I hope we never have to.”

Charles nodded his agreement and took Max’s offered water bottle to drink some water, “It’s been fifteen years. Bet he’s forgotten about us.”

“Probably. I don’t really care. It’s never been about him.”

“What do you remember about him?” Charles asked, staring at Max curiously. “I don’t remember a thing.”

“He never came near you. Didn’t want anything to do with you because you was _normal_. It was always me that he used to take places because I was able to recite information and stuff. It was entertaining to use me against people.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Be glad,” Max told him, ruffling Charles’ hair, “It’s not nice in my head.”

“Is it ever?”

“Sometimes. It’s better when Dan’s around. It’s better when I’m busy. I had a meeting with my tutor and she said that I’m not allowed to take on extra work aside from what I’m assigned by the curriculum because Dad made an agreement with them to not stress me out because they don’t want a repeat of year ten.” 

“Me neither. Will you talk to me if things start getting like year ten again?” Charles asked nervously.

“I promise. I’ve got an appointment with the doctors next week to talk about my meds and stuff, and I know I’m going to have to talk about everything else. I’m doing alright though, Charles.”

“But you’re having a breakdown?”

“I just really miss Dan, it’s nothing bad. I just really miss him. It’s weird getting used to him not being here. I’m getting there though, Charles, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Scrubbing at his face, Charles took a deep breath, “I better get back to class before Amy loses her shit with me any more than she already has. You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m going to text Dan, ask him to call me when he’s free. I’ll see you at lunch?”

Yawning exhaustedly, Charles nodded and leaned in close to Max for another moment, taking in the warm comfort of his protective big brother. 

“I’ll be in the cafeteria if you need me,” Max reassured him as he ran his fingers through Charles’ hair, smirking when Charles grumbled at Max messing his hair up. “Don’t worry, it looks shit today anyway. Did you even do your hair this morning?”

“No,” he pouted.

“Dad’s gonna have your head when he finds out you was two hours late.”

“Dad’s gonna have my head regardless of what I do, I’m the family disappointment for a reason.”

“You’re far from being the family disappointment. You’re the best brother in the world and Dads are so proud of you. You’re not a disappointment,” Max corrected. Charles knew better than to argue with Max. 

Sometimes you had to admit that arguing wouldn’t do anything more than make matters worse and he really didn’t fancy arguing with Max all day about this. 

“Agree to disagree,” Charles set as a compromise, and whilst Max did roll his eyes – clearly not agreeing – he didn’t continue the argument either, so Charles would count this as a resounding success. 

He headed back to textiles fairly quickly after that, knowing he had only about five minutes left of his lesson now and he was probably going to get in trouble for leaving class without permission and for being so long. 

Not that he cared. 

He was used to the constant telling off for his behaviour. He’d dealt with it since he first started school back as a little five year old and he was still dealing with it now as a nearly eighteen year old. Some things would never change and Charles’ commitment to being an annoying student was one of them. 

“Sorry I took so long,” he said as he slid back in, ignoring the looks of concern from Amy and Charlotte as he sat back at his desk. 

Amy followed him over, leaning down in front of his desk when he picked up his pencil and immediately started on his work. 

“Everything alright?” she asked, taking in his blotchy cheeks and the slight redness in his eyes. 

“Yeah, just got a bit overwhelmed and I didn’t want to get into a panic attack so I took myself out and had a chat with Max,” he explained. “I know I shouldn’t have walked out, but everything was moving pretty fast and I needed to-”

“It’s okay, Charles, you don’t need to justify it. This is why we established that for you. When you need to take time out, you do whatever you need to. Finish up what you’re working on and then you can pack up, lesson’s nearly over anyway.” Amy pushed herself up and smiled comfortingly, a complete contrast to the way she’d been telling him off not half an hour earlier.

Charlotte nudged his knee under the table, shooting him a look that said ‘are you okay?’ full of concern and worry. He shrugged off her worry, smiling and winking (it was more of a grimace simply because he _still_ couldn’t wink but she got the vibe so it was fine) and closed his sketchbook. 

The bell went moments later to signify the end of the lesson. 

“Right guys, homework for the weekend is to finish up any initial research and to have a strong idea of the artists you want to start creating research pages for. If you want to start on it, that would be great! See you Tuesday!” Amy told them as people started packing up and filing out. “Charles can I have a quick word please?”

“I’ll meet you in cafeteria,” Charles murmured to Charlotte as she headed to the door, whilst he walked over to Amy’s desk and sat down on the table opposite. “What’s up?”

Surely she didn’t want to keep him behind for another chat about his near breakdown? He was _fine_.

“I think we just need to clear up this attitude from the start of the lesson, don’t we?”

Scoffing, Charles shrugged, “Not really.”

“Right, but it’s not really acceptable is it? You’re year thirteen, Charles.”

“Sorry,” he answered blandly. 

“Do you mean it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He really didn’t, but still. There was no way he was getting out of this without a further bollocking and he was willing to try anything if it got him out of here quicker. 

“Do you actually mean it?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

“Right, there’s your issue, Charles. You don’t preface an apology with ‘I guess so’. That’s not okay. You need to have a hard look at your behaviour today and think about what you’ve done,” she told him and Charles instantly sighed, dropping back to lean on his hands and look up at the ceiling, shaking his head slowly. 

“You’re treating me like I’m one of the year sevens again,” he said.

“Because you’re acting like a year seven Charles. This cocky show off attitude? Not a fan. You need to have a think about your manners okay. The way you came into the classroom? Not acceptable. The muttering under your breath. Not acceptable. The arguing back. Not acceptable! I expect better from you.”

“Don’t know why,” Charles scoffed.

“Because I know you’re capable of doing wonderful things! But you’ve got this incredibly poor attitude sometimes when you’re not getting your own way and it’s not okay. I know you’re capable of amazing things and I want to push you to do that, but not if you’re going to be disrespectful to the lesson, okay?”

“Yeah I know,” Charles sighed, feeling properly reprimanded now. He still thought it wasn’t fair that he was being treated like he was eleven years old again, but still, he had to admit that Amy kind of did have a point and it wasn’t fair for him to disrespect her or the lesson when she’d put so much work into supporting him. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you mean it this time?”

“I do. I’m sorry. I know I was being a show off, and I’m sorry. I should’ve behaved better and apologised for being late. I won’t do it again. Well, I’ll probably be late but I mean I’ll apologise next time.”

“Okay. Because if this goes on again, Carole’s going to be hauling you in for a chat with Dads and the Head of Year, okay? We don’t want your behaviour going back to year nine Charles, understood? That Charles? Not a nice Charles. Let’s have the Charles that is a bit more respectful back, okay?”

“Yeah I will. Can I go for lunch now?”

Amy laughed softly, shaking her head at his priorities, “Don’t be late handing that work in on Monday, or late to your lesson on Tuesday, okay? Because I won’t let you off again.”

“I know.”

“Right, off you go then. And remember, work on my desk Monday morning _before_ first bell, okay?”

“I know. It will be. Don’t worry,” he promised. He pulled his backpack on and straightened his hoodie, heading out of the classroom and following the masses of people heading to the cafeteria.

“Alright Charles?” Someone shouted and he waved at them, nodding a hello and smiling. No idea who it was, however if someone wanted his attention he’d give it to them. 

He found the table of his friends easily enough. Lando was already gone, having finished his lessons at lunch time on Friday and already on his way home, whilst George was still changing after his PE lesson and would probably be a bit late. Charlotte was chatting quietly with Pierre whilst Max and Alex were going through some German homework together they’d gotten first period. 

Quickly, Charles walked to the food stands and grabbed a panini, having not had time to make a lunch due to being late.

“Hey Mary, how are you?” Charles said as he got to the check out, passing her a small strawberry milkshake to scan.

“Hello, Charles. How are you my darling?”

“I’m alright, Mary. Been busy?”

“Oh you know the lunch rush, sweetie. £2.50 please.”

Charles handed Mary the correct amount, before saying goodbye and walking off, eating his cheese and tomato panini as he went.

Grinning around a bite of his panini, Charles waved as George sat down at the same time as him, kissing Alex’s cheek as he went. George that is. Charles didn’t kiss anyone. The only thing he was in love with was his panini. 

Damn Mary had done a good job with them today.

“I got in so much trouble with Amy today,” he told them as he as he threw his bag down on the table, dropped his phone on top of it and threw himself into the chair beside Pierre. “She said if she has to tell me off again I’ve got a meeting with the Head of Year, Carole _and_ my Dads. It’s such bullshit.”

“Well I mean it’s kinda justified,” Charlotte shrugged, smirking at him in a way that showed she wasn’t going to let him get away with trying to play the innocent card.

“Yeah but why does it matter? I was late once. It’s only second week back it’s not like we’re doing anything important.”

“Charles, we sit our A-Levels in eight months. Our portfolios have to be _immaculate_. They told us they’re going to be hounding us more this year and not letting us get away with stuff, you can’t act surprised. You knew this was coming.”

“I’m not surprised. I just think it’s stupid,” he corrected.

“That’s kinda your fault though,” she said, “If you didn’t want to get told off, you should’ve skipped the day and called in like ‘oh sorry I’m sick’. You knew what you was getting yourself in for when you turned up late and then made a theatric out of it.”

“Yeah I know. And I know I should’ve apologised and that. Just because I understand it doesn’t mean I can’t say it’s stupid or that I’m not pissed about it. If I skipped, my Dad would have a go at me. I turn up late, teachers have a go at me. There’s nothing I can do without someone complaining, so why can’t I complain too?”

“He’s got a point, it isn’t fair,” George shrugged.

“Don’t encourage him,” Charlotte muttered.

“Why did you sleep in anyway? It’s not like you,” Pierre asked as Charles shoved the last of his panini in his mouth.

“Feltlikeit,” he mumbled around his mouthful, hand over his mouth to hide the food in his mouth.

“Want to try that again once you’ve swallowed, Charles?” Alex asked.

“You do know I’m a swallower,” Charles grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at Alex who went red and smacked his hand over his eyes as George narrowed his eyes at Charles. Yeah it was probably still too soon into his ‘friendship’ with George to be joking about him giving his boyfriend a blowjob. Ah well. Learning experience. 

“I said I felt like it,” he repeated. “Nothing wrong. I just didn’t get up on time and slept through my alarm.”

“You have nine alarms set,” Max pointed out.

“And I slept through all of them, my dearest brother, because I am a fool.”

“You’re a moron is what you are,” Max hit back, looking down at his phone and smiling at whoever he was texting. Probably Daniel. Whoever it was, Charles was just grateful that Max was smiling again. 

Sometimes he felt guilty for knowing that Max knew so much of what had happened to them as kids whilst he knew barely anything. Fragmented bits of lost information that Charles knew didn’t make sense and were Ada’s favourite bits of conversation to try and use to make Charles understand just why he had such intense trust issues with people. It made sense that he’d never really bothered to form friends, instead created a circle of people that he knew needed him. 

At least until he met the British Trio and Charlotte. 

Those little demons dug their claws in and claimed Charles and Max for their own, and now he was stuck with them. 

He wasn’t complaining. It was actually kind of nice. The group chat was chaos. The boys were chaos. Lando was calling Charles _Dad_ for reasons that none of them understood. Max smiled and laughed every day. Charles knew that no matter what time of day it was, someone was always likely to answer a text message saying ‘anyone up?’. Mostly it was Lando. Boy was like a vampire, he kept weird hours. 

It was strange to be surrounded by people who cared about him beyond what it was he was going to wear to the next party or whether he could get the guy from the corner shop to sell them some alcohol illegally. It was nice though not to be praised by ‘his mates’ for jumping across the counter and dropping to his knees for a guy definitely old enough to be his Dad and sucking him off in exchange for a couple bottles of illegally sold alcohol. There were definitely parts of his old behaviour that he was starting to realise weren’t normal, and sucking a guy off for some five quid vodka that he definitely could’ve just stolen instead? Yeah that wasn’t _normal_. 

It wasn’t good either, but who was monitoring that? 

“What class have you got after lunch?” Pierre asked, leaning his elbow on the back of Charles’ chair and staring at him.

“Art, then I’ve got French last period and Carole’s my French teacher so she’ll definitely rip into me for being late today. I doubt my art teacher will care to be honest. If I’d been late to his lesson, he wouldn’t have even noticed, but Carole knows _everything_ ,” he grinned.

“Êtes-vous bon en français?” Pierre asked and Charles’ breath was immediately stolen from him. He spoke French a lot. He _heard_ ‘proper’ French a lot. Carole was from France herself, and Charlotte sometimes argued with Valentine in French. He knew what French sounded like. 

But _holy shit_ it tickled a different part of his brain when he heard Pierre speak French. 

If this had been any other time in his life, Charles would’ve jumped him that second, straddled Pierre’s waist and kissed him within an inch of his life purely to hear him whimper in French. 

Kinda sucked that he couldn’t do that right now. 

“Um,” Charles blinked when he realised Pierre was staring at him (along with George and Alex and Charlotte… yeah they were definitely going to take the piss out of him later), “Je suis assez bon, je pense.”

“Tu es très bon,” Pierre murmured back, looking at Charles in a way that left his heart feeling exposed and racing faster than a Formula 1 car. Charles ducked his head when he felt an involuntary grin break onto his face and a blush build on his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pierre do the same. Pierre still had his elbow on the back of Charles’ chair, and when he pushed back slightly, he could feel Pierre’s warmth spreading through him in a way that he didn’t really understand, but wasn’t exactly opposed to feeling again. 

“Charles give me your phone,” Max suddenly said, voice slightly on edge, and Charles gave him a distrustful look. How dare he interrupt Charles’ cute cinematic moment of being soft for the boy that made his heart flutter dangerously. 

“No.”

“Just give me your phone, you knobhead.”

“Why?” he asked, staring at Max.

“I just want to check something.”

Rolling his eyes, Charles shook his head, “No.”

“Give it here!” Max said, throwing his hand onto the table and waiting for Charles to put his phone in his hand.

“No! Use your own. It’s literally in front of you. You don’t need mine!”

“Charles, just give me your phone!”

“No!”

Charles’ screen had lit up with a notification whilst he’d been arguing with Max, however had darkened again before he’d looked at it. Ignoring Max, Charles tapped at the screen to see the notification, ignoring Max’s cries of ‘Charles no!’ and the way he was trying to dive across the table to grab it. 

For once in his fucking life, Charles really wished he’d listened to his brother. 

A cold spiral ran through his body, bile building in his throat as he read the notification. 

It was a notification sent from his Dad’s law firm. 

A fucking invitation to another Gala. 

“Charles just give me the phone,” someone whispered. 

Why was they whispering? 

It was so fucking quiet

Why was everyone quiet

Where was everyone?

Pushing himself off his chair, Charles slid beneath the table, pressing his hands over his mouth and nose to stop the panic was erupting. His pulse was battering his ears, chest heaving under the strength of trying to not throw up or let the panic overwhelm him. 

Not another Gala

He couldn’t

Not again

He couldn’t go back

He wasn’t ready

He couldn’t breathe there

Mick hurt him there

People would touch him

People would see him panicking and think him a freak

Max would dance with Daniel and Charles would be left reminded that all he could do was get a blowjob off a guy who would later have a go at him for lying about his age (he didn’t lie… just omitted telling Jamie the truth) and then have people not listen when he said ‘no’

No one ever listened to him

He was just the fucking freak

That fucked up freak who didn’t deserve to be given rights or the decision of what happened to him

He always fucked up

He couldn’t be trusted

People didn’t listen to him

“Charles, Charles listen to me, focus on my voice, focus on me. It’s me, it’s Maxy, I’m going to take care of you,” Max’s voice cut through the pulsing in his ears, not loud enough to make a difference but enough that Charles knew he was there. 

He couldn’t focus on him though

All he could hear was that voice in his head

 _Pierre’s_ voice in his head

_“Do you know how many people have told me how fucked up you are?”_

Because he was

He was fucked up

All he could do was cry because he got a fucking notification

He couldn’t breathe because of a stupid fucking notification

“Charles, listen to me, no one’s going to hurt-”

“I’m not fucked up,” he whimpered, slamming his hand into his head to try and get rid of that voice whispering _fucked up fucked up fucked up fucked up_ over and over and over again until he couldn’t hear anything else. 

“I know, I know you’re not, you’re not fucked up, you’re okay, Charles.”

“I’m not fucked up. It’s not my fault.”

“I know you’re not, you’re a good boy, Charles. Everything’s going to be okay,” Max comforted, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay? It’s me and you, no one else is looking at us, no one is paying attention to us. George is ready to fight anyone. It’s just you and me. Always us. Always. Fucked up idiots together.”

Max gently took Charles’ wrist in his hand to stop him from hitting at his head and drew Charles into his arms. Slowly, Max started rocking him back and forth as Charles sobbed into his jumper. The underlying smell of Dan’s aftershave shot through the fabric, slowly warming Charles’ soul.

Why couldn’t he have a love like Max had with Dan?

Why did they get it all and he couldn’t even hold a boy’s hand?

Why did his brain have to keep reminding him of the shit that he’d gone through? 

Pierre was _a good person_ who made a mistake and yet his brain couldn’t fucking let it go. 

“I’m not fucked up,” Charles sobbed, chest heaving as he held onto Max. 

“You’re not. Mick’s the one who hurt you. He’s the one that didn’t listen. No one is going to hurt you. Dad isn’t going to make us go to the Gala. We’re not going. No one’s going to hurt you. The Gala isn’t important. It’s stupid. Don’t think about it, it’s not important. Focus on me.”

Vaguely, Charles could feel Max move slightly and he clutched on tighter, knowing he was safe in his brother’s arms. He’d always been safe in Max’s arms. Even when they’d ripped them away from each other, he’d always find his way back. 

“Here, Charles, take some water,” Max told him, brushing Charles’ hair back off his head. 

His breaths were still catching when he took a sip of the water, coughing and spluttering when it hit the back of his throat badly. 

“Take it slow,” Max murmured, rubbing his back as he coughed. “That’s it, good lad, take it slow.”

“Charles, sweetie, can you come out from under the table?” 

Charles pulled his eyes open to see that the chairs had been moved aside and Carole was now kneeling down in the gap. Max was sat beside him, both of them ducking to avoid smacking their heads on the underside of the table, and Charles shook his head. 

He didn’t want to get out. If he got out, then other people would stare at him. 

This year was meant to be a chance to start again, to not pay attention to other people’s issues with him and focus on changing himself and finding what he needed in order to stop that stupid darkness in his head that yelled about how fucked up he was. 

“I know you’re scared, sweetie, but you need to come out so I can help you, okay? Pull your hood up on your jumper and come on out. No one is going to look at you, but we don’t want you trapped under there if you start having another attack. You don’t do well with enclosed spaces, Charlie-boy. And I’m not scuffing up my trousers coming to get you, so out you come, sweets,” Carole told him, making Charles laugh slightly through the tears. There was a reason why Carole was his favourite teacher and it was entirely because she had the same morals of focusing on her clothes not getting messy as he did. 

Not that it seemed like he did, considering right now he was sat on the slightly sticky cafeteria floor on his sixth-form block, hiding under a table so that people couldn’t see him have a panic attack. 

“Come on, Charlie, you’re my favourite student, but my knees aren’t liking you right now.”

Max pulled Charles’ hood up for him and gently pushed him, encouraging him to get out from under the table. 

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. 

“I know. You feel safe under here but it’s better for us if we go into the open again, isn’t it? Remember, that’s what we did to escape. It’s better,” Max murmured. Charles ran his fingers through his hair and tugged on it hard, trying to calm his brain enough that he was able to listen to Max. 

“Okay,” he agreed. Max shuffled out first and held his hand out for Charles. Charles took his hand and followed after him, making sure to keep his head down and not look up, sitting on the floor for a moment longer. 

“That’s brilliant, Charles. We’re going to go and sit somewhere a bit quieter now, okay? So could you stand up for me? Max, do you have a class now?” Carole asked. 

“Yeah, but I can be late. It’s only psychology.”

“You need to go,” Charles muttered, “Your classes are important.”

Max shook his head, “You need me more. I can skip. I’ll catch up later.”

“No ‘cause you’ve got that facetime date with Dan tonight, don’t sacrifice it for me.”

“You’re more important.”

“You cried ‘cause you miss him. I’ll be okay. I’ll be with Carole.”

“I’ve got a free now,” Pierre murmured, “I don’t know if you want me around but…”

Carole looked between the three of them and sighed. 

“Max, you should go to class. We’ll come and fetch you if Charles needs you.”

“He’s my brother-”

“I’ll be okay,” Charles told him, resting his head on Max’s shoulder for a second and taking in a deep breath. “Go to class. I’ll be okay.”

“What class should you be in next period, Charles?” Carole asked.

“He’s meant to have art, with me,” Charlotte said, “I’ll tell our teacher that he’s with you.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” Carole nodded. “Right, come on, Charles, let’s get you somewhere quiet so you can calm yourself down properly.”

Reluctantly, Charles let go of Max and pushed himself up, taking hold of Pierre’s sleeve and tugging him along. If he couldn’t have Max or Charlotte, he needed someone else, and whilst part of him knew that perhaps Pierre wasn’t the right decision considering that voice in his head sounded quite like Pierre sometimes, he was still the reason why Charles was able to shut that sound out. 

Pierre was careful to keep his hand away from Charles’, folding his hand into his pocket so that Charles could avoid the skin-to-skin contact that often tipped him over the edge. 

“Into here, Charles,” Carole said, holding a door open for them both to go through. There was a small sofa that Charles dropped himself onto, curling his legs up underneath him and folding his arms on the arm of the sofa to bury his head in. Pierre didn’t sit down, instead moved to lean against the wall as Carole sat down in a chair near Charles’ head. 

“What’s happened, sweetie?”

“I got a text, calendar notification, email or something, I don’t even know what it was. But it was from my Dad’s work and it was an invitation to a Gala. And- and-,” Charles voiced cracked as the tears started to fall again, shoulders shaking with every sucked in breath, “And immediately thought about Mick and what he did there.”

“That’s where he assaulted you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Charles said, wiping the tears away even though they seemed to be moving faster than he could possibly wipe them away. “And I don’t want to constantly think about him and I know I have to get past this, but I just can’t.”

“I can’t go certain places,” Pierre murmured. “Dad tried to take me to a fast food place, wasn’t even one that I went to with Mama, and I panicked and had to get out of the car. You don’t _have_ to get past it, Charles. It’s PTSD. It fucks you up. You got assaulted in a place that you thought you was safe. It’s going to keep messing you up.”

“I don’t want it to.”

“I know.” Pierre shrugged sadly and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa to Charles, looking at him carefully. “This is the first time you’ve been suggested to go back to the place that affected you so badly. You can do school because you’re used to school. There’re enough distractions in place. You’ve been in fights, you’re used to getting hurt at school. Yes, Mick hurt you more than a ‘normal’ fight, but you’re used to it. You don’t know how to react to the Gala because you’re not used to it.”

“I’ve gone for years.”

“But you only go once a year, right?” Pierre waited for Charles to nod before he continued, “You never have fun, that’s what you told me. You always think they’re boring. Now you think they’re scary. You’re not going to react to them in the same way anymore and that first time you do go back to a Gala, you’re probably going to cry and scream and not even be able to look in the direction of where he hurt you. You don’t _have_ to have moved past it just because it’s been a while.”

“You can’t run before you can walk, Charles,” Carole said. “You’re still learning your coping mechanisms and how you need to move past things, but Pierre’s right. There’s no time frame on recovery and if you need to take some more time, you do. Walk first, Charles. Don’t run.”

Closing his eyes again, Charles sighed and tried to focus on his breathing. It was still somewhat difficult and he didn’t entirely know if he was going to be able to keep breathing, but at this point, he didn’t even know if he wanted to. 

“I need you to sit up for me, Charles, sit up straight,” Carole told him and Charles shook his head. “Unfortunately, sweetie, it’s non-negotiable. Do you remember last week when I told you that I don’t want you to die in my classroom because that’s too much paperwork? Extends to the offices too. The paperwork is _astronomical_.”

“I don’t care, Carole.”

“Well I do, and so does your Dad. I don’t think Sebastian would be best pleased if you died on my carpet because you’re a stubborn little git, would he?”

“Doubt he’d care. Least they can get rid of me then,” Charles muttered, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“Your Dads love you. You’re lucky, Charles. Stop being an idiot,” Pierre snapped and Charles opened his eyes to look at him. “I don’t know what you went through before them, but your Dads love you. Don’t take it for granted.”

“I don’t. I’m just saying sometimes it’s really hard wanting to stay alive and be their son. You don’t know what it’s like growing up in the shadow of Max. The fucking genius. Being Sebastian Vettel’s son. Being _Kimi Räikkönen’s_ son. How I can’t even do fucking _art_ without someone comparing me to him. Max is going to finish sixth form with _seven A-Levels_ , Pierre. I’m going to be lucky to even get two. I don’t want to fucking do anything anymore and it’s _hard_ to care,” Charles hit back. “So I’m sorry that you’re mad that I’m struggling to love my Dads right now, but when I don’t even want to fucking breathe half the time, caring about other people isn’t exactly high on my priority list.”

Carole and Pierre both stared at Charles, watching as he closed his eyes again and buried his face in his arms, sobs falling from his throat as he tore at his hair and bit down on his hoodie to try and stop himself from completely breaking down. 

It was like a train had ran through his body, tearing through him and breaking him apart until there was a hole inside him that he couldn’t fill no matter what he did. Anything he tried to do to fix himself didn’t seem to matter. A colander in his heart that let everything fall through. Nothing captured. Nothing kept. 

Everything lost. 

He always lost everything because he wasn’t important enough for anyone to catch what he was dropping. 

No one cared

No one would ever care

“People care, Charles. People love you. You just can’t see that right now.”

“People don’t care,” he whispered. “They just pretend. Everyone always pretends. I’m not important.”

“You’re the most self-confident, self-assured, so-in-love-with-himself person I have ever met, Charles Räikkönen-Vettel. You are so damn important. You know you are and I know that at the minute you’re wrapped up in the darkness, but you are the most wonderful and annoying person I know, and I’m not having you sitting here telling me you’re not important, because you are,” Carole told him.

“I don’t want to be here, Carole.”

“Here as in at school or as in alive?”

“I don’t know anymore,” he admitted, “I told Charlotte that I want this shit to be over. This version of my life where I’m just perpetually hurting and don’t know how to smile or hold someone’s hand without feeling guilty.”

“I think we need to send you home for the rest of the day, Charles. You’re really not in the right headspace.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“I know. But you’re not going to be able to concentrate. You won’t be able to focus. Your head is all over the place right now, and I think we need to call Dad and ask him to come and fetch you so you can have a rest, okay?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, and I’d rather you did stay, but I know you, and you need to go and sleep, Charles. You’re exhausted and you need a hug from your Dad. You need someone to remind you that you’re important, and that you’re loved, and you need your Dads for that,” Carole told him. Charles scrubbed at his eyes sleepily, the tears still falling as he shook his head. 

If he went home, Dad would want him to talk. He’d have to have an emergency appointment with Ada. People at school would know he’s weird, that he can’t even make it through one fucking day of school without having a breakdown. 

He just wanted to be _fucking normal_ and he couldn’t even achieve that. 

Everything was still dictated by Mick even nearly a year later. He still couldn’t fucking do anything without having to consider that _bastard_.

The spotlight was always on him, pointing and shining and waiting for him to do something. To be the boy that succeeded and proved that he was strong. Infallible. The one that was able to overcome everything. The one with the ability to create a new identity and show people that he was better than the boy that he used to be. 

He was _tired_.

He was so fucking tired.

He didn’t want to be the one at the top anymore. 

Carole was right. He was trying to run before he could walk.

His phone ringing cut through the stale air, shooting down the acidic anxiety that had been steadily building in his mouth.

Pulling it from his pocket, Charles swiped to answer it before even bothering to check who it was.

“Yeah?”

“Charles? Are you okay? I didn’t know that invitation was going to be sent to you guys,” Seb’s voice anxiously came through the other end of the line.

“I’m not doing good, Dad,” he whimpered.

“I’m going to come and get you, okay? Gonna take you home. You don’t want to be in school if your head’s all over the place.”

“I don’t know what I want, Dad. I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of, Charlie?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“Okay baby, that’s alright. I’m coming to get you, okay? And we’re going to go home and you can get all your tears out there, alright?” Seb told him.

“I’m scared I’m never going to get past this.”

Pierre shifted closer beside him, smiling softly at Charles and held his hand up in a high five gesture. A reminder that he wasn’t alone even after he’d snapped and had a go at him.

Charles knocked Pierre’s hand down, however stopped him from pulling his hand away by resting his palm against Pierre’s and curling his fingers over his Pierre’s hand to hold onto him. As much as his hand was burning at the feeling of touching someone when he was terrified, he needed this. Needed the grounding. 

“You’ll get there, Charlie. One day. No one expects you to have some magic fix. You can’t do everything for everyone all at once and still try and fix whatever’s going on in your brain.”

“It feels like I’m falling.”

“Someone will catch you, baby. Someone will always catch you.”

Charles pushed himself up and curled slightly into Pierre. He still kept a fair amount of distance between the rest of their bodies however pressed his head into Pierre’s shoulder, taking in that fresh, grounding scent of the outdoors and paint odour that seemed to linger on his skin from hanging around the art department so much.

“Promise?” He whispered, voice barely catching before the soft sound of his breathing overwhelmed it. Another thing lost to the elements like it meant nothing.

“I promise you. Someone will catch you, baby.”

Pierre’s hand was still in his and Charles gently squeezed it, his phone pressed to his ear like if he held it there harder his Dad would get here quicker.

He wouldn’t. 

He was coming from work. It was at least a half an hour drive. 

But he was on his way. Because he cared.

 _Someone_ cared.

And when Pierre squeezed his hand back, Charles knew one other thing.

Pierre cared too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore


	17. Little Things - September 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Charles being sad**   
>  **Mentions of past suicidal behaviour**
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

Charles ended up sitting out on one of the front benches with Pierre whilst they waited for Seb to pick Charles up. He’d text the group chat, telling them that he was being sent home for having a ‘funky mental health day’, with Lando immediately texting back asking if he wanted some company over PlayStation to try and distract himself. Charles had politely declined, promising Lando that he’d text back if he changed his mind, however he was simply exhausted. The thought of hanging out with someone, even over online games, was exhausting, and if Charles was going to try and get some work done this weekend, he needed a rest. 

He had his eyes closed, still resting his head on Pierre’s shoulder and tightly clutching his hand, not wanting to let go of the source of calmness. 

“Will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you’re safe?” Pierre whispered and Charles nodded minutely. 

“Promise.”

Pierre squeezed Charles’ hand lightly, reassuring him that no matter how much the static in his head increased in volume to the point that it was all he could hear, there was someone still around, holding him to the ground and keeping him here. Holding him in a world that he was needed and protected and made him feel special.

“Your Dad’s here,” Pierre murmured. Taking in another deep breath, Charles tried to commit that outdoorsy-painty scent to mind and spun his head, looking up at both of his Dads. He hadn’t realised they were both coming to fetch him. It made sense. They were probably having a date-day together in London once the legal stuff was over with and now Charles had messed it up by needing his Dad to fucking hug him.

“Come on, let’s go to your Dads.” Pierre carefully stood up, picking up Charles’ backpack from their feet and shouldering it. He never once dropped Charles’ hand as they walked over to Seb and Kimi. 

“Hi Mr Vettel,” Pierre said as he tugged Charles over. Instinctively, Charles lent into Kimi, still holding Pierre’s hand as he closed his eyes and curled into his Isä.

“Hi Pierre, how are you?”

“Good. Worried about him.”

“He’ll be alright. Charles just needs a rest, but thank you for looking out for him, Pierre.”

“It’s okay. Charles, are you going to let go of my-”

“Sorry, hang on. Pierre, weird question,” Seb interrupted and even Charles opened his eyes to look at his Dad. His Dad _never_ interrupted someone. He was always polite and waited until they finished their statement and then he tore them to shreds if needs be. For him to interrupt Pierre, it must’ve been serious. “Sorry. Your Papa, what’s his name?”

“Romain, why?” Pierre answered, hesitation evident in his voice and the way he dropped Charles’ hand and stepped back.

“Holy shit... Kimi I told you it’s him.”

“Is this about the kidnapping?” Pierre asked, only to be cut off by Kimi laughing.

“What’s the fucking chances of that?” Kimi laughed, his arm tight around Charles’ shoulders as he pressed his face into Charles’ hair.

“It’s not about the kidnapping, it’s something else,” Seb smiled, looking between Pierre and Charles.

“Am I missing something?” Charles asked, pulling free of Kimi to stare at his parents who were looking at each other and grinning. Not two minutes ago, everyone had been in a state of mild panic over Charles, and now they were grinning and laughing like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And Charles was _so confused_.

“Do you want to tell him or shall I?” Seb asked Kimi. 

“You tell him,” Kimi agreed.

“Charles. Do you remember how old you was when you had your first kiss and your teachers made us have a chat with you about it?”

Charles frowned and nodded, “Um, yeah, I was like seven, right? That’s what you said the other day.”

“Do you remember where we were living at the time?”

For a long second, Charles stared at his parents and ran through the lists of dates in his head of when he lived in different countries. 

“Was it France?” Charles asked. Seb nodded slowly, clearly waiting for Charles to click on to something, however he really was none the wiser. If anything, he was more confused at what his Dad was trying to get at than he was confused at most of English work. And he was pretty fucking confused when it came to his English work. 

“I don’t-”

“Merde...” Pierre whispered, interrupting Charles and staring at him. “It’s you. It’s you again.”

“What’s me again?” Charles asked, looking between Pierre and his parents. At this point, he swore people were just out to make him as confused as possible, especially with that _stupid grin_ on his Dad’s face that Charles knew was his ‘I know something you don’t’ smile. 

“You were the friends I had. You and Max. You were the new kids at school that we’d been teaching how to speak French properly. You were my first kiss...” Pierre murmured. Charles went wide eyed and sharply looked at his parents.

“What?!”

“The first person you ever kissed was Pierre. You moved school a couple of weeks later. But he was your first kiss. I remember talking to his Dad not long after it happened. He’d tripped in the playground, cut next to his left eye,” Seb nodded at Pierre and when Charles looked, he saw the faint white line that indicated an old injury. “He got a black eye. And he was crying in the yard, and you helped him stand up and said ‘I can make it better’, and you planted a kiss right on his lips.”

“It was ISN, wasn’t it?” Pierre asked and Seb nodded. “That was the school Mama took me from.”

“We’d already made plans to move the boys by time everything happened with your Mama. It happened a couple weeks after the twins 7th birthday. I would’ve been one of the lawyers for your Dad if it wasn’t for the fact that we were moving to Germany about a week after you went missing.”

“You was meant to represent my Papa?” Pierre quietly asked and Seb nodded.

“Yep. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d been posted to another case, I was going to stay and help your Father. I don’t know if Charles has ever told you my job-”

“I haven’t,” Charles interrupted. 

“Exploitation and Abuse of Children. I’m a human rights lawyer. So technically, I would’ve been your lawyer. Representing your father, but because of you. Unfortunately, I’m used to dealing with kids going missing or dealing with parents being ‘bad’,” Seb gently explained. “But you and the twins were friends. You even came to play at our house once.”

“I can’t believe you was my first kiss…” Charles whispered, staring at Pierre. 

Of all the people… It had to be the boy that he now feared kissing every day. 

He didn’t remember Pierre. He vaguely remembered running around the school yard and kissing people in a game of ‘kissy cat chase’, but not Pierre. 

Why couldn’t he remember Pierre?

The one boy that he furiously wanted to remember more than anything now and yet he couldn’t fucking remember a thing. 

He always thought it was a good thing that he didn’t remember his childhood really, but now? Now he kinda hated it. 

Pierre and his Dad were still talking quietly amongst themselves and Charles lent into Kimi again, pulling his phone from his pocket.

The Chaotic Trio   
  
**Today** 13:23   
do you two remember going to school I. France   
Valtteri  
Vaguely   
Max  
What don’t I remember   
why did u not tell me we was friends with pierre at the french school   
Max  
WE WERE FRIENDS WITH PIERRE???????   
so you don’t rmemeber then  
he was my first kiss   
Valtteri  
you fucking idiot   
only you Charles I swear   
the dumbass energy is RAMPANT  
Max  
I don’t remember Pierre wtf  
Wait  
The boy you kissed  
Your first kiss   
ding ding ding  
we’ve got a winner   
that’s how we found out   
dad was talking to pierre and asked who his dad is and then pierre realised that dad was trying to get me to realise I’d kissed Pierre  
Valtteri  
lmao iconic that you’re now terrified of touching him and yet he was your first kiss   
JOKES ON YOU  
I held his hand today  
Valtteri  
Seriously?   
Yep  
for like half an hour  
Valtteri  
Shit   
That’s so good!  
Why though?   
lmao had a mild ptsd moment  
did u see the notification  
Valtteri  
Ah   
Yes I did  
How are you?  
Going for an emergency appointment bc im not doing too spicy rn   
Max  
Tell Dads I’m making my own way home  
Lando and his bf are going to come and get me   
WHAT  
IM MISSING MEETING SACHA?!   
THIS IS THR WLRST DAY FI YM LIFE  
IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF  
not actually omg that was bad timing  
I was just being dramatic  
Please don’t worry I’m not going to I was just joking   
I just really want to meet Sacha   
Max  
jfc Charles   
You’re so dumb  
Valtteri  
For fucks sake Charles   
That was REALLY BAD timing  
I should find a new coping mechanism…   
I’ll talk to Ada about it later   


“Charles? Are you ready to go?” Seb asked and he looked up from his phone.

“Yeah hang on.”

okay dad wants me. will talk to u both later   
Valtteri   
stay safe pikkuveli   
Max  
See you later bitchface   
the love is unquestionable ❤️❤️❤️❤️  


Charles slid his phone back into his pocket and stepped forward, holding his hand up for Pierre.

Gently, Pierre pressed his hand against Charles.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Charles honestly admitted, “But I’m trying. I got a lot of talking to do.”

“I’m glad you were my first kiss.”

Blushing fiercely, Charles nodded and looked at their hands, “I just wish I could remember you.”

“We’ll just have to create some new memories instead.”

“Yeah we will,” Charles murmured, slotting his fingers in between Pierre’s and squeezing his hand. “I’ll text you later?”

“Don’t panic about it. Just text me when you’re ready. And when you get home, so I know you’re okay.”

“Depending how exhausted I am after therapy, I’ll text the group chat about playing Among Us or something. Apparently, Sacha is with Lando today so we could get a good game going. I’ll see if Charlotte wants to get involved and her girls. Max might ditch us for a FaceTime date with Daniel though.”

“Don’t push yourself, Charles. Remember what Carole said. Don’t run before you can walk,” he murmured, running his thumb back and forth over Charles’ knuckles, “It’s okay to take some time off from being Charles Räikkönen-Vettel and just be Charles instead.”

“I know. I just don’t always like who _Charles_ is.”

“A lot of other people do. He’s a good guy. You should give him a chance. I quite like him” Pierre said with a soft smile.

Looking down at his trainers, Charles let go of Pierre’s hand and took his backpack from him. He started walking backwards, going back to his Dads and allowing Seb to wrap his arm around Charles’ shoulders, still watching the smile on Pierre’s lips. 

“I’ll see you later, P.” Charles nodded and turned to the car, climbing in the backseat of his Dad’s car. He dropped his backpack to his feet and after tugging his seat belt around him, dropped his head to rest against the window and closed his eyes.

“You okay, pieni?” Kimi asked.

Was he?

Honestly he didn’t know.

He felt empty

But so full

He didn’t really get it

Part of him felt fulfilled and rationalised. 

Probably the part of him that now lived with the knowledge that the boy he was falling for was the boy that destiny had first put him with.

He didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t believe in horoscopes. He didn’t believe in that whole ‘everything happened for a reason’ bullshit.

And maybe fate was nothing more than a cruel mistress who dangled what could’ve been in front of him just to entice him in and rip it away from him when he least expected it.

What would’ve happened if they’d have stayed in France?

Dad would’ve been one of Romain’s lawyers. He’d have brought Pierre back home. He’d have had Pierre’s Mama put in prison.

Suddenly Charles and Pierre’s backgrounds would revolve around the same one person. Pierre would be closer to him. Pierre would’ve been there from the start. 

But then they wouldn’t have moved to England when they did.

Valtteri wouldn’t have met Lewis.

Daniel wouldn’t have fallen for Max.

Charles wouldn’t have met Charlotte.

He wouldn’t have been so sexually confident only to have it ripped away by some _asshole_.

Max wouldn’t have tried to die...

Charles would sacrifice all of that in an instant if it just meant that Max didn’t try and die. Everything good that had happened to him and Valtteri wasn’t important so long as Max was happy.

The boy he’d spent all those years sacrificing everything for. The boy he’d ran through glass, fire, storms, tears, and fists for. The boy he’d give his life up for in a heartbeat if Max needed him. 

If Max needed a heart, Charles would give him his. 

If Max needed a smile, Charles would give him his. 

If Max needed him, Charles would give himself over.

“Charles?” Dad asked again, and Charles, with tears streaming down his cheeks, whispered back, “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t know anymore.”

Seb reached behind his seat and held his hand out for Charles’. Charles slid his hand into his Dad’s like he was a little boy all over again, holding onto him and tapping back a rhythm that Seb drummed onto his skin.

Another person that relied on him.

Another person that loved him.

Another person that cared about him.

“I love you, kiddo, remember that,” Seb whispered.

“I know, Dad.”

Therapy seemed to happen in an almost blur. 

One second he was laying himself down on Ada’s small sofa, hugging a pillow to his chest and staring at the ceiling, unable to do anything but let the tears silently fall, and the next he was sitting upside down with his head pressed into the hardwood flooring and his feet hanging off the back of the sofa.

Ada was staring at him until he closed his eyes.

“Why are you now upside down?”

“Helps me think,” Charles replied.

“What are you thinking about?”

Charles tried to shrug but the motion sent him sprawling off the sofa, leaving him lying on the floor.

It was a good job Ada was used to his dramatics as she didn’t care about him lying there.

“I don’t know. My head’s still spinning with Mick, but there’s also this like, I dunno, battle I guess, where all I can hear is Mick and the shit he said and my Dad’s face when I told him what Mick had done, but there’s this like battle that’s trying to fight back and it’s Pierre and Charlotte and George and Alex and Lando and they’re all there trying to do _something_ to not let Mick take over, but I can’t fucking understand it.”

“Why do you need to understand it?” Ada gently asked and Charles threw his hands up in despair. 

“I don’t fucking know! If I knew what the fuck was going on with me I wouldn’t be in fucking therapy, would I?! If I could just fucking understand what the fuck went on in my head, then I’d be fucking normal, wouldn’t I?!” Charles exploded, sitting up suddenly and glaring at Ada, his chest heaving. “If I knew, I wouldn’t fucking cry and hide when I see a notification on my phone. If I understood shit, I’d be able to understand what Pierre was to me. If I _fucking remembered_ my childhood, I wouldn’t feel so fucking guilty and responsible for all the shit Max goes through.”

“Why do you feel guilty for Max?”

“He remembers everything!” Charles screamed, “And I can’t even fucking remember that the first person I ever kissed was Pierre!”

“Charles, I understand that you feel bad for that, however Max’s memory has nothing to do with your childhood. Max has an eidetic memory, you can’t feel guilty for that. He’d be like this regardless of what your childhood was like. If you’d have been raised by Seb and Kimi from the second you were born or whether you’d have been raised by a goat herder, he’d still have the memory he does. That’s just the way his brain works.”

“But I don’t _want_ him to remember! He deals with all of this shit, all the time. He doesn’t even talk to Dan because he can fucking hide it away and pretend it doesn’t exist and I can’t! Why can’t I do that?!”

“Because you aren’t Max, Charles,” Ada calmly explained. “You aren’t Max. You and Max, you’re different people. Your fathers always say ‘for a set of twins, you’re nothing alike’. You have to remember that. A lot of Max’s compartmentalising will come from his past experiences. Max tried to commit suicide, Charles. He went through a different mental health system to you because of it. Max is a different person with different needs, and he’s doing what he can to try and help himself. You don’t need to take on his guilt. You don’t need to take on his memories. I know you’re his twin, I know you want to protect him, but you also need to protect yourself, Charles. Be your own knight in shining armour and stop trying to be everyone else’s too. 

“You’re allowed to be selfish. You’re allowed to care about yourself. You’re allowed to say ‘I need to spend some time away from people and look after myself first’. Because _you_ are a _person_. You’re not a character in a storybook. You’re not some creation that’s here to only make people laugh. You have thoughts. You have feelings. You have emotions. And you need to realise that you need to look after yourself too before you can look after everyone else,” Ada said with a note of finality. 

Charles was still sitting on the floor, staring up at her with pained eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I just feel so weak, Ada,” he whispered. “When I do nothing for him. I just feel so fucking weak.”

“I know, but you’re fighting your own battles too, Charles.”

“I’m scared of falling at the hurdles and no one saving me when I need them. Not like we all save Max. He’s got Dan and my Dads and me. Who’s going to save me, Ada?”

Ada sighed and pushed off her chair to sit down on the floor with him. She placed her hand palm-side upwards, leaving the option open for Charles to do whatever he wanted. Leaving him with the option to make his own decision and decide what was going on with his body. Most important, giving him his autonomy back. 

“I don’t know what to do Ada.”

“Talk to me. That’s what I’m here for,” Ada encouraged and Charles placed his hand in hers. 

“What if someone doesn’t save me when I need them? What if I hadn’t caught Max in time? I can’t stop thinking about the what ifs.”

“People are going to save you, Charles, especially when you least expect it. Pierre did. Charlotte does. George now sits with you in English so that you don’t feel so shit.”

“I just feel like I’m to blame for everything.”

“Why’s that? Why do you think it’s your fault?”

Closing his eyes, Charles tilted his head backwards onto the sofa, taking in deep breaths to try and stop the tears from falling. It didn’t work. But he needed to try. 

“It’s like this feeling, right, where my legs have been ripped from my body and I can’t do anything, and someone keeps screaming at me to run, screaming that I’m a failure because I can’t do something so basic. They yell about how I’m never going to make it in this world because I don’t have the talent and I can’t succeed or follow basic rules,” Charles explained quietly. The only accompaniment to his words being the clock ticking ominously in the background. 

“And yet no matter how much I scream, how much I beg for help, no one cares, they don’t want to help me, they just blame me and say it’s my own fault. That I’ll never be good enough. I’m weak. I’m stupid. I’m a poor excuse of a human. And I don’t know what to do. I can’t run away. I can’t hide. I can’t protect myself. I’m nothing. And I hate being nothing.”

Ada let Charles go quiet once he finished, not rushing to fix or defend or try and make him see sense. Instead, she let him stew it over and reached out for the box of tissues, placing them between them and pushing one into Charles’ hand.

“I want you to do something for me, Charles,” Ada quietly murmured. “Open your eyes and stand up.”

Charles did as Ada asked, wiping his face with the tissue and walked over to the window with her. 

“Hold your hands against the glass.”

Charles followed instruction yet again. 

“Now press your head into the glass.”

The cold of the glass seeped through, pressing through to his mind and calming it down.

“What do you feel?”

“Nothing,” he answered.

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s okay.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s under my control. If I want to move away from the glass I can.”

“But I told you to stand here.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Do you not?” Ada asked and Charles shook his head. “So why do you think that you need to be dictated by other people? You’re listening to what I’m telling you, but you’re still making your own decision. You could’ve very easily said to me ‘Ada I’m not listening to you’ and I wouldn’t force you to do this. I want to help you, but I want you to be happy. And that’s what other people want for you to. Of course we want to help you and we want to be cheering you along, but you can fight yourself. You can scream back and say ‘give me time’. You can be _selfish_ , Charles, and that’s perfectly okay.”

Closing his eyes, Charles breathed out shakily and tried to stamp down the guilt when he felt the tears still stream down his cheeks. 

He so desperately wished for Pierre to be his knight in shining armour. To be the one that saved Charles and fixed things, to be the one that gave him the support he needed to be able to get past the difficulties and get on to the thing that mattered most. He didn’t know what that was right now, but he wanted it. He wanted to be _better_.

And yet, maybe he had to be his own knight. If he wanted people to help him, he had to try and save himself too. He wasn’t a damsel in distress. He’d fought to get out of his original world. He’d rewrote his story once already. 

It was time to change up the narrative. He could accept help and he could try and help himself, and that was okay. He wasn’t bad for trying to look after himself whilst also trying to understand his trauma whilst not letting it rule him. 

He was more than just his trauma, and he was prepared to fight it now. Whether he could, was a whole other issue. However, he was ready to try, and he thought that deserved something.

Ladies   
  
**Today** 16:02   
im back home now   
im going to bed because I’m exhausted  
sorry if I freaked you all out today  
mental health was a bit too spicy today  
Pierre  
Don’t worry about it. We just want you to be okay   
Alex  
Pierre’s right. You know where we are if you need a distraction   
George  
See you Monday, mate   
Charlotte  
Love you babe❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️   
Call me if you need me   
im not good at this   
but thank you   
Lando  
Max will be home at 4:30. If you stay awake until then, come downstairs and meet Sacha   
**Today** 16:45   
Lando’s boyfriend bought me a baguette   
He’s officially my favourite person   
Lando  
oui oui   


**\-- Thursday 24th September 2020 --**

Ladies   
  
**Today** 18:13   
Lando  
Me and Sacha are arguing and I need help   
LET ME FIGHT HIM   
NO ONE HURTS MY SON   
Lando  
Thanks dad   
Not needed though  
We’re arguing about whether I should become a twitch streamer   
Max  
No   
Charlotte  
YES   
George  
No   
Alex  
No   
YES YES YES  
I’LL STREAM WITH YOU  
LANDO PLEASE YES DO IT  
Pierre  
If Charles says please you know he’s serious   
Max  
CHARLES SHUT UP  
PIERRE DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM   
Charlotte  
Lando you’d be so good at it   
Do it   
can I have a cut of your sub money  
Lando  
Absolutely not   
eh  
worth a shot  
legit tho if you wanna do it, do it  
Like don’t take this the wrong way but you’re not likely to have many viewers at the start but if you keep it up and just have fun ppl will flock to u bc ur actually kinda funny sometimes  
Lando  
‘Kinda funny sometimes’   
You really know how to treat a guy don’t you Charles   
Max  
Try living with him   
He’s like this all the time   
Charlotte  
I love Charles sm   
George  
Same   
hi Georgie❤️  
George  
Hi Charlie❤️️   
Pierre  
Have we… missed something?   
Alex  
I think we have   
George  
How are you baby?   
All the better for knowing you’re around darling  
Alex  
I think I’m supposed to be jealous right now  
But I’m just confused  
Charlotte  
Join the fucking club hun   
Max  
Apparently they’re ~friends~   
Lando  
Since when???????   
Max  
idk  
I was on the phone w Dan and I heard them talking and I was like ???? So I stuck my head in Charles’ room and they were playing eurotruck simulator together and now they’re acting like long lost lovers  
So I am very confused   
Alex  
GEORGE RUSSELL WHAT HAVE WE SAID ABOUT EUROTRUCK SIMULATOR   
George  
That I’m not allowed to play it   
Alex  
WHY   
George  
Because I get mad at it   
Alex  
SO WHY DID YOU PLAY IT   
George  
Because Charles was bored and sad and I said ‘hey wanna annoy alex’ and he said yes and so we played it   
WAY TO RAT ME OUT   
Max  
It’s because you are a rat   
its actually bc ur a bitch  
Max  
What does that have to do with anything   
idk just felt fitting  
Lando  
ANYWAY   
So Charles, stream with me?  
YESSSSSSSSS   
lemme know when you’ve got it all set up and we’ll do a discord call and play the f1 game or smth idk  
Max  
disgusting game   
just bc ur shit at it  
Charlotte  
I live for the twins arguing   
Gives me that sweet serotonin boost   
Lando  
Fkin mood sis   


**— Sunday 27th September 2020 —**

Pierre   
  
**Today** 01:25   
u awake   
  
Yes why?   
  
im bored   
  
can we hang out tomorrow   
  
my dads have me on a tight leash bc theyre still worried about me after my breakdown last week   
  
nd im B O R E D   
  
i could go to charlotte’s but she’s got the gals over and I don’t wanna disturb   
  
i just need to get out the house   
  
please   
  
just even come town with me   
  
i really need some air   
  
and max keeps facetiming with dan and having phone sex and id rather die than listen to that anymore   
  
Sorry I had to go and talk to my Papa   
  
You could come to mine if you want?   
  
really?   
  
Yes   
  
oh   
  
cool   
  
yeah that’d be good   
  
thanks mate   
  
No problem   
  


They arranged to meet at the Sainsbury’s they gone to a few weeks prior, and Charles sat on a small metal fence. He was on his phone, swinging his legs and scrolling his Instagram, answering a few comments, leaving another one on a photo of George and Alex. 

“Hey!” Pierre called as he walked out of the Sainsbury’s, bag in his hand.

“Hey,” Charles nodded, jumping off the fence and heading over to Pierre.

“You look good,” Pierre said, blush settling heavily on his cheeks as he looked over Charles.

Charles had tried to ‘dress down’ a little, and instead of wearing _Burberry_ or _Givenchy_ or some other high end fashion house like he normally did, he’d opted instead for a plain black t-shirt and black tartan trousers, his black vans, rings on his fingers (he was trying something new – he thinks he likes it) and a black jacket over the top. Admittedly his jacket was from Burberry (he still wasn’t sure if Seb knew that Charles’ emotional support shopping meant buying a £690 jacket, but Seb also liked the jacket so it was fine), however it didn’t have the same bold ‘BURBERRY’ lettering or bold beige plaid/tartan pattern that they were notorious for, so he was counting it as _subtle_.

He was trying to not be as much of a show off around Pierre since he’d started to get the impression that Pierre perhaps wasn’t as ‘well off’ as the typical private school kid that attended Forests. Charles understood it when Daniel had told him a while ago _‘if he gets mad because you’re wearing the clothes you **like** then he’s not the boy for you’_, however he didn’t necessarily think that was the issue, especially after hearing how Pierre’s Papa had repeatedly moved them around before moving them to England. Charles didn’t remember his own early life, but he knew enough that constantly moving was expensive. 

And now as he stood in front of Pierre who was wearing a simply pair of ripped blue skinny jeans, a grey hoodie and white trainers, he understood that sometimes you didn’t need to dress to the nines all the time and try and be the centre of attention. Of course Charles still liked it. He liked getting dressed up in fancy clothes (he’d burned the suit and t-shirt that he’d been wearing _that night_ ) and calling with Lewis to discuss the new line that Tommy Hilfiger were launching or how to style a colour block print hoodie. Clothes were cool. He liked them. 

However, he also was starting to understand the purpose of being a bit more mindful with the way he presented himself so as not to come across as that privileged kid that he knew most of his school saw him as. 

“Thanks,” Charles blushed, “You look good too.”

“We have to walk back to mine, I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah it’s chill don’t worry.”

“Seb not dropping you off in the Ferrari today?” Pierre asked as they started walking. Charles looked across at him and frowned when he heard Pierre’s voice was a bit tense no matter how hard he tried to act normal. Maybe he was just anxious about bringing Charles to his home. 

It was understandable if he was. He’d spent his entire life in hiding and here he was willingly making himself vulnerable and showing someone the place where he should’ve been safest. 

“Nah. Him and Isä were in Dad’s office having _another_ argument, so I text my Dad like ‘going out with Pierre see you later’ and just ran. I can’t keep dealing with them arguing.”

“Why do they keep arguing?”

Charles shrugged helplessly, “No idea. They always do it in either Dad’s office or in their bedroom. Dad’s office has sound muffling because obviously when we were all younger he didn’t want to risk us hearing details about the cases, especially Max, ‘cause sometimes they can be pretty gruesome and scary. I could’ve stood at the door and stuck my ear to it and listened, but I’m tired of being surrounded by people who don’t like each other. If I don’t hear them arguing then I can’t listen when they break up, I guess. Blissful ignorance.”

“You think they’ll split up?”

“I don’t know what they’re going to do. Great 18th birthday present isn’t it? ‘Happy Birthday twins, me and your Dad are splitting up’. Yeah great, cheers, Dad, just what I wanted,” Charles mocked.

“I don’t think your Dads are going to split up. They love each other.”

“You don’t know my Dads, P.”

“And you don’t know why they’re fighting. Adults fight, Charles. It’s normal.”

“I’m just scared. I don’t think I could take it if they did,” Charles quietly admitted, looking down at his trainers as they walked. “If Dad left us, it’d ruin everything. Like he’s the one that holds us together, he’s the one that makes things happen and makes things go away. But if Isä left, Max would- I don’t know what Max would do. Isä is Max’s... _person_ , you know? Like Isä was there for us so much more growing up and I’m scared that if Isä goes not long after Dan’s gone, Max is just going to completely lose it.”

“And you?”

“I feel like I’m being selfish.”

“When I was little, when I didn’t understand why Mama wasn’t around, I blamed my Papa,” Pierre explained, “I thought it was his fault, I wanted my Mama around, I wanted my parents to be together. It’s not selfish. You’re a kid who wants his parents to be together. It doesn’t matter whether you’re seven or seventeen. They’re the people that love you and you love them, it makes sense.”

“Do you still love your Mama?” Charles asked and Pierre puffed his cheeks out in answer. 

“I don’t know,” he honestly admitted. “When I was little, yeah. I loved her. Now I see her for what she is and I don’t know. It’s hard to love someone that you know hurt you.”

“I don’t remember my Mum. I don’t even know if I remember what colour her hair is. Whether she’s got my eyes or Max’s. What her name is. I don’t know anything.”

“Is that good?”

Charles’ eyes were red when he looked across at Pierre, biting at his lip to hold in the tears, “I don’t know.”

“You think it would help you move on if you remembered her?”

Wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, Charles sighed shakily. 

“I don’t know. I just want things to make sense.”

“Things won’t always make sense.”

“Yeah I’m getting that,” Charles said, scrubbing his hands across his face and pushing the tears back. 

The two of them walked in a relative silence for the rest of the journey, Pierre shifting his bag of shopping back and forth between his hands in an almost anxious gesture whilst Charles tapped a beat from a song that he’d heard his Dad humming along to on the radio this morning when Charles had gotten back from a run against his thigh. 

Ada had told him he should start running again, that it would help him. 

He didn’t agree. But he did it anyway. 

He refused to admit that it did help. He wouldn’t give Ada the satisfaction. 

Probably not the right approach to take to therapy but Charles wasn’t exactly the right sort of person. His brain was a warzone at the best of times and a casualty zone at the worst of times lately. 

As they walked to Pierre’s house, Charles looked around at the area. He didn’t spend much time in East Barnet, due to living in more in the outskirts of the area, and he curiously looked around as they walked. He was used to detached houses. Grand three, four storey houses with giant driveways and expensive cars, and now as he walked through Pierre’s area, he looked up at the terraced houses and the small areas, cheap cars that looked like they were on their last legs, he thought about how things would’ve been different if he hadn’t have lived the life of affluence that he did. 

He knew he was extremely privileged and he knew he was extremely lucky to have lived the life he did. Even just getting away from the life that he couldn’t remember was an extremely lucky thing. 

He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Pierre to remember his Mama. 

“You look surprised,” Pierre told him as they walked. 

“Hmm? Surprised at what?”

“The fact that not everyone has a three-storey custom built house. You can’t stop staring.”

“No I know that. I’m not a complete twat. I’ve never been down this end, so I was just looking around, seeing what the area’s like. And to be fair, Pierre, you should know that some people like to be aware of their surroundings in case something goes wrong,” Charles hit back and Pierre at least had the good sense to look a little bit reprimanded. “We have our location services turned on at all times out of pure fucking fear. That’s the entire reason me and Max got smart phones the second we was old enough. I look where I am out of old habits from being a kid, please don’t call me out for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Pierre murmured, “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“No you just saw me as that rich kid again, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ve always guessed you don’t have the life that most people at Forests do, and I’ve never treated you differently or treated you like something to gawk at. Don’t start thinking that I am now. I’m just curious. I’m looking around a place I don’t know.”

“How did you guess?”

Charles shrugged, “You notice patterns. You don’t wear all the fancy gear that everyone else does. Your phone is three models out of date for what most people at school use, your camera’s a couple years old but you take extremely good care of it. You get nervous around people spending money. I’m the son of a lawyer, I notice things.”

Pierre stopped in the street and Charles looked up at him. 

“This is where I live.”

The house was small, narrow, and honestly it looked about as wide as Charles’ bedroom at home. 

Well, that was probably a bit of an exaggeration but it was _small_ and that’s what Charles noticed. 

“It’s nice,” Charles smiled, looking up at the white building. It was only two storeys but he liked it. As much as he liked his house (well, he loved it but still), there was something cosy about this house. Charles’ house was big and airy and had tons of room for three growing boys to run around, but Pierre’s house was nice too. 

“Have you lived here since you came to England?”

“I know it’s not as extravagant as what you’re used to-”

“Put my affluence aside. I don’t care. Have you lived here since you came to England?”

“Yes,” Pierre said, “I have. It’s cheap and Papa can afford it on his salary. I told him I’d help but he said I need to focus on school.”

“Forests offer you a scholarship?”

“Yeah. Keep my grades up-”

“And it’s a free ride to uni, makes sense. It’s a good thing.”

“You really don’t care?”

Charles pushed his tongue into the side of his lip and shook his head slowly, “Want to know something fucked up? The reason I have access to money? It’s not my Dad. It’s my birth right. My parents aren’t going to pay for me to go to university. I’m getting the course loan from the government like ninety percent of kids our age will. My Dad works hard for his money, that’s not a lie. He has a lot of money. But me and Max do too. Not us and Valtteri. Me and Max. The money me and Max have access to is fucking compensation money that the high courts got shelled out to us for what happened to us as kids. And the reason I don’t use it on myself? It’s because I hate it. It feels dirty. It’s a reminder of the shit I went through that I can’t remember.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. I don’t care about money. I know I should, but I don’t. I like clothes. I like my house. I like video games. I like having cool art supplies and being able to buy any fabric I want for my fashion stuff. My parents pay for some stuff, I pay for some stuff. My Dads work hard for our lifestyle and I know how difficult things are and it wasn’t always this nice for my Dads. And I can’t even explain it but I’m not a fucking idiot about money and I’d never care about where you come from or where you live. As long as your safe and happy, that’s all I care about. I don’t care about money, Pierre. I care about you.”

Stepping closer to Pierre, Charles ran his hand down Pierre’s sleeve and took the shopping bag in his own to drop onto the floor at their feet. Carefully, he took his hand, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest and it felt like his hand was being stung by thousands of little bees.

“I care about you,” Charles whispered, staring at Pierre. Pierre’s other hand toyed helplessly, in a weird middle ground between wanting to hold on to Charles’ waist whilst also not touching him, being more than aware that touching had to be initiated by Charles and Charles hadn’t said that he could touch him. 

“I care about you too,” Pierre murmured back, eyes flicking down to Charles’ lips before looking back up at him. 

“I can’t kiss you.”

“I know.”

Dropping his head onto Pierre’s shoulder, Charles took in that soft outdoorsy scent that seemed to never leave Pierre’s clothes. 

“I feel safe with you. For some reason, you make Mick’s voice go quiet,” Charles admitted. “Even after all the shit we went through, it’s still you. It’s always going to be you.”

“Me?”

“I was thinking about it. You being my first kiss. My Dad said we moved not long after my birthday. For my birthday, my friend gave me something. Something that when I grew up, I did the same back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You gave me a present. Actually, you gave me my biggest comfort. You gave me Tommy, my penguin. What I use when I’m scared.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. We did a project, Max told me, and it was about animals in Africa. I got confused ‘cause, well, I’m dyslexic, and I did it on Antarctica. And you bought me Tommy afterwards, for my birthday,” Charles explained.

“I don’t remember that.”

“I do. I didn’t let go of him for weeks. And apparently when you went missing, I asked my Dad when you were coming back and if you were going on an adventure like the penguins did. I didn’t get it at the time what was going on. I’m sorry that when you told me I didn’t know.”

“We were six, seven years old. You’re not Max. You don’t remember things like he does. Like I said, let’s make some new memories. Come on, let’s go play on my PlayStation,” Pierre said, gently tugging on Charles’ hand and grabbed the bag, pulling him towards the house. “Papa insists on shoes off by the door.”

“That’s fine,” Charles agreed. 

Pierre unlocked the front door and called out for, “Papa”, and Charles smiled when he saw the easy grin come onto his face at the sound of his Papa calling back to him. 

Pierre’s Papa walked out of what Charles assumed was the kitchen, instantly breaking into a grin at the awkwardly fumbling boy that stood on his doormat and the son that was handing over the bag of groceries.

After ruffling Pierre’s hair, his Papa leaned into him, smiling at Charles. “Salut, Pep, est-ce le garçon?” 

_Is this the boy?_.

Had Pierre spoken to his Papa about Charles?

Maybe… It would make sense that he had. 

If Charles had spoken with his Dads about Pierre, especially since the whole revelation that Pierre and Charles had been friends as little kids, it only made sense that Pierre would ask his Dad about Charles. It was still weird though. 

Charles had never been the type of boy that got brought home to the parents, let alone be the type of boy that could get stories told about him to the parents. 

Well, Charles bet there had been a lot of stories told about him over the years. 

He simply had to hope Pierre was telling the positive kind. 

“Oui,” Pierre laughed, “C'est Charles, Papa.”

Pierre’s Papa laughed softly and smiled, looking Charles over before nodding, “Très mignon.”

“Papa!” Pierre whined, going bright red under his Dad’s gaze. 

Charles wondered whether Pierre was thinking about the fact that Charles spoke French too. 

“This is Sharl,” Pierre explained, motioning towards Charles like he wasn’t the only other person in the house that was normally unaccounted for. 

What Charles was choosing to ignore was the way his tummy was doing flips at that stupid accent pronouncing his name. 

Honestly, it was just a name. Yet somehow it was the most perfect pronunciation of it ever and Charles seriously might combust on the spot if Pierre curls his letters like that again. 

“Bonjour, Sharl,” his Papa smiled gently, “I’m Romain. Would you like a croissant? They’ve just come out.”

“Um, yeah, please,” Charles awkwardly said and toed his trainers off before following Romain through to the kitchen. It was small, quaint, with wooden counters in an L-shape along two of the walls and the sink under the window. 

Romain handed across the pastry and Charles took it with a shaky hand. 

Should he say thank you in French or English? He knew both.

He spoke both perfectly fine. As did Pierre’s Dad. 

The only issue is, Charles had never done this before. He’d never met someone’s parent. He’d never had a relationship of any form. He didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Um, thank you,” Charles anxiously said. 

“Come on,” Pierre nudged, grabbing a croissant as well and two bottles of water. “Nous allons dans ma chambre, Papa.”

Romain nodded and Charles followed Pierre out of the kitchen, walking up a small spiral staircase and down a tiny hallway and into Pierre’s room. 

Pierre’s bedroom was small, a twin sized bed pushed up against the pale blue walls. A lightwood dresser and nightstand, along with a desk that had Pierre’s laptop and camera on were the only furniture items in the room. He had his PlayStation beside his TV which sat on top of his dresser. 

And it was clean. That was probably the biggest contrast to Charles’ own bedroom. Charles’ room had his markers, bits of fabric, an old t-shirt, sketchbook here, book for English there scattered across the floor, making it a hazardous nightmare for anyone bar him to traverse. 

“Your room is so clean,” Charles said in wonder. 

“Is yours not?”

“Nah,” Charles grinned, flopping down onto Pierre’s bed and taking a bite of the croissant, “My Dad says it’s a chaotic mess, but I like to call my room organised.”

“It’s a mess, isn’t it?”

“Oh god yeah. I nearly died tripping over a towel yesterday at 3am when I had to go pee.”

“Why don’t you clean it?”

“Because depression says nah bitch, and we do as depression brain says.”

“I thought you was doing okay?”

“I am,” Charles admitted, chewing on the croissant with a blissed out look on his face, “Like I am doing _okay_ , but doing stuff like cleaning my room just ain’t the one at the minute. It’s kinda weird in my head a lot at the minute and I’m just taking it one day at a time. Gotta walk before I can run, innit.”

Pierre laughed and fell down onto the bed beside Charles, keeping an appropriate distance between them and eating his own croissant. 

“What does your Dad do?” Charles asked. 

“He’s a chef. He works at a hotel. He’s good.”

“I was just wondering ‘cause I kinda want to marry him after eating this croissant, like honestly it’s kinda the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth and I’ve had a lot of things in my mouth.” Pierre choked, sitting up suddenly as he started coughing to try and dislodge the croissant that he’d choked on in surprise. Charles thumped Pierre’s back, smirking when he started laughing once he was okay. 

“Yeah sorry I forget you’re not used to hearing about my old sexual behaviour.”

“You’re a special one, Charles,” Pierre laughed, taking a swig of water as he passed across the last of his croissant to Charles, “Here, you can have it. You deserve it. But please don’t marry my Dad. I don’t want to call you step-daddy.”

“I’m not really the Daddy type. That’s more Daniel’s realm of expertise I reckon.”

Pierre broke out into laughter again, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. 

Pierre’s laughter was infectious, and with each desperate pull of laughter, Charles felt himself falling harder. 

Shit…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I've been planning that Charles and Pierre have that history since the second I started plotting their story
> 
> I would've had this chapter up earlier but a friend died not too long ago and my brain has been a bit all over the place trying to come to terms with it whilst also starting back at uni and everything is a bit odd lately
> 
> but yeah, anyway, hope you enjoyed
> 
> kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore


	18. I Found You - October 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> has it been nearly two months since I posted chapter 17? why, yes, yes it has. 
> 
> you may also notice, I have finally, FINALLY, updated the end chapter count. 
> 
> **CW: Mild panic attack**

**— Thursday 1st October 2020 —**

**— Monday 5th October 2020 —**

“Can I ask you something?” Pierre said as the two of them sat down at a random table in the cafeteria for their free period. 

They were waiting for Lando and Alex to join them, however neither of them had made an appearance yet. They’d just gotten off their break and yet _somehow_ they’d lost Alex and Lando. It made sense to lose Lando, he was tiny after all and they could easily lose him in the crowds, but Alex? The lanky giant? He was just gone. It was a good job Charles was used to people vanishing on him.

Charles had his backpack on his lap, in the process of grabbing out his sketchbook as he shrugged, “Yeah sure, what’s up?”

“When you were at mine, you said you have dyslexia. What’s that?”

“Oh...” Charles murmured, fingers faltering on his sketchbook. “Did I say that?”

“Yeah, when we were talking about Tommy.”

“Shit. I didn’t mean to...”

“Oh, okay. I can forget it-”

“It’s a learning difficulty,” Charles explained quietly, looking down at his backpack so he didn’t have to look at Pierre and see that fucking look of pity that people gave him when they found out. “It means I have difficulties with my reading and writing. I mess up. I get words mixed up.”

“Like Antarctica and Africa?”

“Yep. I got diagnosed backend of last school year, in like April? It happened a few weeks before I got admitted into my Fashion College for uni.”

“How long have you had it?”

“All my life.” Charles leg started bouncing anxiously under the table, fingers holding uselessly onto the sketchbook like it could protect him. “They just didn’t notice.”

“How come?”

“When they started to notice the issues, I’d not long been adopted. I was learning proper German and English as well as Finnish and bits of Dutch because we were still living in Holland at the time. I kept like using English words but a German word order. Now they realise it was an early presentation of my dyslexia, but at the time they just... thought I was stupid I guess.”

“You’re not stupid,” Pierre murmured, “It’s a _difficulty_. You said it yourself.”

“Yeah and it makes me even more stupid than I already am. I couldn’t spell my own name until I was nearly eight, Pierre. Max could spell our entire name by the time he was five. He could recite the alphabet backwards.”

“He’s also a genius,” Pierre gently reminded him.

“And I’m the stupid one. That’s how it is. I don’t talk about it.”

“Why?”

“I have enough of a reputation for being a dumb slut, I don’t need to give people another reason to think that I’m not worth paying attention to. The only people that know are my teachers, Charlotte, my Dads and my brothers and their boyfriends. And now you. Please, P, don’t mention it to Lando and that. I don’t want them to know.”

“I wouldn’t. It’s not my place to anyway.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Charles looked up at Pierre, “Thank you.”

“It’s okay. If you ever need help, I can try. We can suffer through English together.”

“It’s funny because French is the only language were my dyslexia is like ‘nah bitch we’re out’ like for some reason I can read and write French with no issues. Well, writing’s a bit janky sometimes, but most of the time it’s absolutely fine. Probably why it’s the only class I ever passed.”

“You pass textiles and art.”

“But French was the only class my _Dad_ cared about. He’s better now, before you starting thinking my Dad is some unsupportive asshole. It’s my fault. I used to mess around a lot, got put on school report and stuff so he didn’t think I took school very seriously,” Charles explained when he saw the brief look of shock and perhaps mild anger on Pierre’s face. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, he’s better now. Very understanding and supportive.”

“Are things any better between your Dads?”

Charles scrubbed his hands across his face, sighing as he shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m trying to stay out of it. Max was crying to Daniel about it the other day and they seem to have stopped now. But I dunno.”

“You know where I am if you ever need a break,” Pierre winked before opening his media portfolio and started scratching down some words on the paper. Charles wanted to question the abrupt change in mood however Lando sank down on a chair beside him and Charles instantly understood that Pierre was already keeping his promise of keeping Charles’ business between them.

“Can I put my head on your shoulder?” Lando quietly asked.

His eyes were rimmed red and there was the stain of tear marks on his face and Charles instantly put his arm around Lando’s shoulders, pulling him in so the younger boy could bury his face in Charles’ shoulder.

“What’s happened, pieni?” Charles whispered.

“Sacha,” Lando whimpered, hands clutching at Charles’ jumper.

“What’s he’s done?! Do you want me to beat him up? Because I will. I have no self-preservation. I will kill him for you if you need me to. My Dad can help.”

Lando laughed brokenly and shook his head.

“It’s nothing bad. He’s just going to Argentina for a while and I don’t know when he’s coming back.”

“But school-”

“I don’t know _when_ he’s coming back,” Lando tried again.

“As in- as in he’s transferring school?”

Lando nodded and pulled his head off Charles’ shoulder, “He told me this morning, before school. I don’t want him to go.”

Pulling Lando back into him, Charles wrapped his arms around Lando’s neck and gently shushed him, rocking him slowly back and forth and pressing kisses to his mop of messy curls.

“Of course you don’t want him to go. He’s your boyfriend. You’re going to miss him like crazy. But you’ve done long distance before. You can do it again. You’re a stubborn little bugger, Lando,” he comforted, smiling sadly at Alex when he caught Charles’ eye. He had the same broken-hearted expression that Charles knew he himself was sporting. Lando clutched onto Charles as he silently cried, never once relenting his grip no matter how Charles moved.

“We’ll get through this. You’re not alone, Lando, we’ll manage this. Me and you and the dumbass duo and Max and P and Charlotte. You’ve got us. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I want Sacha too!” He cried and Charles could do nothing more than wipe away the tears that fell steadily and keep reminding Lando that he wasn’t alone.

“I know, mate, I know. I wish Sacha was here too. He could buy me another baguette.”

“What’s your obsession with baguettes?” Alex asked and Charles simply shrugged.

“I just think they’re neat.”

Lando giggled slightly through the tears, which Charles counted as a major win.

He’d never done this. Never in his life had he coached someone through... well it wasn’t a break up was it? Because Lando and Sacha were staying together but... temporarily moving of one party to another country doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. Normally, Charles was the one putting tears on people’s faces at him being the one to _break up_ a relationship, not be the one trying to hold the relationship together. 

This was way harder than Charles had ever anticipated it being. 

He made a silent note to simply break Daniel’s neck if he ever broke Max’s heart. At least then he’d be distracted by trying to dispose of a body rather than comfort someone who was broken hearted. 

He wasn’t very good at that part of it. 

“I wish he was going France. At least then I could see him,” Lando whispered, voice thick with emotion as Charles pulled him off his shoulder to wipe his cheeks with his sleeve. “Argentina is so far away. I don’t even know where it is.”

“South America,” Charles told him. “It’s probably like a fifteen hour flight.”

“How’d you know?”

“Guessing,” Charles admitted. “We went Florida when I was ten for our birthday, and that was like ten hours. Argentina is below America by quite a lot. I don’t know, I’m just guessing though. My geography might be off.”

“I don’t want him to go.”

Charles pulled Lando back in, allowing him to wrap his arms around Charles’ waist as he kissed Lando’s head again.

“I know. It’s horrible. It’s scary. And you’re going to miss him like crazy. But you’ll do it. You’ll manage it. And he’ll be home before you know it,” Charles comforted and scraped his fingers through Lando’s hair. “When I was nearly eight, my Dad went to America for a few months for work. I missed him like crazy. But I kept reminding myself he was coming back. Sacha will come back.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if he finds someone better in Argentina?”

Trying to push down the insecurity for Lando, Charles scoffed lightly and shook his head, “You are the _best_ thing to ever happen to him. Sacha adores you more than anyone. Well, I don’t think anyone could adore anyone quite as much as Dan adores Max, but Sacha comes pretty close with you. He loves you, Lando. He’s just going on adventure, okay? He’ll always find his way back to you. And if you ever need a hug, you know where I live.”

“Thank you,” Lando whispered, keeping his arms tight around Charles. Charles draped his right arm over Lando’s shoulders and kept him in place, his fingers going through Lando’s hair to comfort him as he picked up his pencil and started drawing in his sketchbook. 

Lando was clutching onto him still like Charles was his favourite teddy bear, with Charles quickly getting lost in the motions of doing a study piece for an artist he was using for his exam. 

He never thought about how he didn’t normally like people touching his waist. 

For some reason, that noise in his head that sent an alarm screaming through his brain was dormant. The volcano that was waiting to erupt, the lava bubbling under the surface that was waiting and waiting until the moment when it could explode, burying everything and everyone underneath it, it was quiet. It wasn’t even peeking a look over the edge.

At this point, Charles was just purely hoping that Ada and his Dads had done enough to make sure that he wasn’t the one buried underneath the rubble of the explosion. He was also praying to a God he’d never believed in that he was strong enough to stop that volcano erupting. 

Keeping his fingers threading through Lando’s hair, Charles looked up long enough to catch Alex’s eye who smiled sadly and Pierre. 

Pierre who looked proud of him.

“You okay?” Pierre mouthed at him and Charles nodded.

Maybe he was okay...

Maybe things wouldn’t always be so fucking dark.

**— Wednesday 7th October 2020 —**

To say that the seven of them going go-karting was a terrible mistake would be a mild understatement. 

Their sixth form finished at lunchtime on Wednesdays, meaning that from 12:10 onwards, there wasn’t any responsibilities for them all. Normally Max would do some of his extra work, most likely going for a meeting with his Dutch tutor to check that he’d done the necessary work he had, whilst Charles would most likely be found annoying Jamie at his workplace. 

Not today.

Today they’d ventured to a race kart track that Max and Charles had attended as kids with the British Trio, Pierre and Charlotte, and it went about as well as you’d expected. 

“Not you two again,” the manager had sighed when Max and Charles walked in, groaning at the matching twin smirks that met him. 

“How you doin’, Barry? How’s Alan? Neck ever recover?” Charles asked as he folded his arms across the counter. 

“Yes, no thanks to you, you little bastard.”

Max stepped up beside him, exchanging a grin with Charles before turning to Barry, “My Dad, Sebastian Vettel, phoned ahead. 18th birthday party, Barry. Can we see the record laps before we go?”

“I know who you are, you don’t need to remind me,” Barry grumbled and switched a screen, letting some lap times come up on the screen above his head. 

“You hold the lap record?!” Lando shouted, knocking Max’s shoulder forward when he grinned. 

“Yep. We told you we came here a lot as kids. It was the only way Dad could keep us all distracted on the same thing for more than twenty minutes. Me and Charles would always race a bit harder than the rest and we’ve been lap champions every year since. We come back every now and again just to keep Barry here on his toes,” Max explained as the British Trio groaned. 

Pierre sidled up to Charles, nudging him slightly, “What happened with Alan?”

“Alan is Barry’s son. We were racing him once and Alan should’ve pulled back but he didn’t so me, him and Max went into a like two kart wide corner as a three and he got knocked out of his kart. He was fine, just jarred his neck once. Barry’s never let me live it down because it was _technically_ my fault because my kart clipped his. It was a racing incident and he didn’t have his belt on properly so I never got in trouble, but Barry still hates me for it.”

Pierre looked at him with mild concern however Charles shrugged it off. 

“Honestly, it’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal. He was honestly fine, just dramatic.”

“So like you then,” Pierre grinned, laughing softly when Charles flipped him off. 

They were the only ones at the track, with Seb having paid for them to have a couple of hours of racing. Normally the limit was 30 minutes, however people didn’t tend to say no to Charles’ father. Charles used to hate that as a kid. Well, more as a teenager. He’d bragged about his Dad a lot growing up and then once he started secondary school as a little eleven year old, he’d gone through a phase (that ended up lasting for roughly the next six years but he didn’t acknowledge that) of practically ignoring the existence of his family. To be fair, he still wasn’t _great_ about talking about his family at school, or to anyone that wasn’t Charlotte or Pierre, but he was trying. He was making progress. Baby steps, right?

Charles was also pleased that he only tried to ram Max off the track a solid seventeen times. His record was twenty nine. No, he wasn’t meant to, no he doesn’t need you to disapprove of him. Just because he knew it was bad, didn’t mean he was going to stop. 

George, Alex and Lando started squabbling at one point after George supposedly was the one to qualify in last place, leaving Charles, Max, Pierre and Charlotte to sit on the side-lines and watch. None of them understood what was going on, however the British Trio were lowkey yelling at each other whilst the other four sat exchanging a bag of Haribo sweets. 

“Are you three done yet?” Charlotte asked, of course still looking hot as fuck in her racesuit and with helmet hair. 

“NO!” they yelled back. 

Sighing, Charles interrupted, “We can just run a reverse grid. Me and Max start at the back, Lando and George at the front. Rock papers scissors to decide who is p1 and p2, alright?”

Lando and George stared at each other before looking over at Charles, nodding their agreement. Charles walked over to the two of them, a neutral party to watch the rock-paper-scissors match. It ended with Lando starting p1, George p2 and Alex p3. Charlotte was starting fourth, Pierre fifth, with Max p6 and Charles p7.

It didn’t end up mattering as Charles and Max both swooped through and took p1 and p2 without hesitation. The twins had done a fair bit of karting as kids, with their Dads offering to let them take it more professionally, however Max’s growing anxiety had started rearing its ugly head and diminished Max’s desire to race and Charles didn’t enjoy it as much without Max. 

The seven of them raced hard, the twins battering each other whenever they got close enough, falling far ahead of the others as their competitiveness took stead. Charles managed to push at Max slightly, nearly sending his kart spinning if it wasn’t for Max’s quick reactions straightening the kart before he could. They’d been track champions for a reason, with Max’s talent being enough to keep him battling Charles. It was probably also the reason why Seb hadn’t let either of them learn to drive yet, and considering Charles could barely even tie his shoe laces without something going wrong, it was probably not a good idea to let him learn to drive yet. Max… well he was a bit distracted with trying to keep his head straight enough on his academic studies, learning to drive really was the bottom of Max’s list of priorities. 

Plus, if Charles spending absolutely any time alone with Max and Daniel had taught him anything, it was that his brother had a thing for watching Daniel drive, and he really did have to avert his eyes and loudly remind them both that he was still present more than once.

Was he mad because they were being horny bastards in front of him, or mad because they had the _audacity_ to forget he existed? Probably the latter.

He liked being the main character after all.

Even after they left karting, George and Lando continued arguing. Lando had cheered up slightly since hearing the news about Sacha, aside from that phone call that Charles had got at 4am the other day of Lando crying because he was sad. He still wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with this onslaught of emotion, however he tried his best and Lando had seemed a bit brighter over the last few days. Sacha wasn’t due to move for another little while, and Charles had promised Lando that they’d go on an adventure with him before he left. 

George had seemingly taken it on himself to try and distract Lando, and it was working. Ada also approved as when Charles had mentioned to her about spending a lot of time helping Lando, she’d reminded him that he was still in his own recovery and needed to make sure he was taking care of himself. 

It was strange how people kept emphasising him, Charles realised. A lot of people focused on him and wanted him to do better, and he didn’t _mind it_. There’d been a time when all he’d cared about was doing the opposite of what everyone said. 

Dad wanted Charles to clean his room? He went out partying and threw his messy clothes across the floor. 

Isä wanted Charles to put his dinner plates in the dishwasher? Charles left them on the counter. 

Max wanted Charles to lend him his charger? Charles threw it out a window (admittedly that one still made him laugh). 

Daniel wanted him to be a better brother to Max? Well… we all know how that ended. 

Taking care of himself wasn’t something Charles knew how to do. His ‘self-care’ had always been drinking, partying, and sex. Validation, really. He’d never bothered to look after himself when he could get the attention of dozens of other people. As long as he looked good, that’s what mattered. 

Only taking care of himself beyond making sure he _looked_ good mattered more than he really wanted to acknowledge. It tended to annoy Ada that Charles didn’t see himself as important enough to take notice or care off, but he was in therapy for a reason and he was trying his best. 

“What do you want?” Max asked as they walked into the McDonalds, heading straight to the self-service with Charles, Pierre and Charlotte, whilst the British Trio (still arguing, Charles noticed, only now about which of them was faster and how George would’ve been faster had Alex not impeded on his lap, honestly Charles a bit lost) went to the opposite checkout.

“Not bothered,” Charles sighed, leaning against the machine and watching Max tap at it. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

“You always have very strong opinions on what should be bought. What’s wrong?”

“I dunno, I feel fine.”

Max stared at him for a moment before looking back at the screen. He felt someone nudge him slightly and he looked to the side, Charlotte looking back at him with clear concern decorating her features.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he shrugged, “Honestly. I was just thinking about stuff.”

“What?”

“Nothing important.”

“So why won’t you tell me?”

Rolling his eyes, Charles pushed himself up and pushed Max out of the way, tapping at the screen to select what he wanted. The eyes of them all were digging into him, trying to pull at him to see inside his brain so that they could try and understand what was going on in Charles’ head.

Ha

Jokes on them

Even he didn’t understand. 

Pierre nudged him lightly as Charles angrily stabbed at the screen, growing frustrated when the machine didn’t immediately react to him.

“Nah fuck this,” Charles muttered and stormed off, throwing a ‘just get me fucking burger!’ over his shoulder to Max before throwing himself down into a booth and slinking down into it. His jaw almost seemed to glue itself shut, teeth grinding as he folded his arms across his chest. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was in a bad mood suddenly but he was and frankly he really wanted to smash his head into the table.

 _This_ was why people got pissed off with him. 

He had the fucking attention span of a four year old and he couldn’t maintain one emotion for more than five minutes.

All that had happened was Charlotte and Max checking he was okay and suddenly he was throwing a tantrum like a fucking kid.

God this would all be so much fucking easier if his brain would just fucking work properly. 

He looked over at Max, watching the way he laughed and joked around with Lando and Alex. Max’s eyes kept flickering over to Charles and when Max caught him looking, he smiled tentatively. Charles’ didn’t smile back, instead he just looked away.

Maybe shit would be easier if this fucking feeling of guilt for not remembering what they’d gone through as kids would just fucking die.

He didn’t want to die. Not exactly. He just really fucking wished his brain would stop this stupid fucking flip-flopping between letting him be okay whilst also making him want to throw himself off a cliff. 

God his brain was fun...

“Are you alright?” Pierre gently asked when he slipped into the booth opposite Charles. 

Charles shook his head however he didn’t look at him. Instead he aimlessly stared into the distance, eyes growing unfocused as his leg started bouncing incessantly under the table.

“What’s wrong?”

Shrugging slightly, Charles didn’t say anything. 

“Do you want me to distract you?”

“I want you to distract Max so I can go and throw myself in front of a bus but I don’t think you’ll do that, will you?” Charles snapped.

“No, I won’t. I don’t want you to do that.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Charles screwed his eyes shut and gagged when blood flooded his mouth. Pierre quickly passed across a napkin and Charles spit into it, before shooting up and diving out of the restaurant. He pressed his hand into the side of the building as he spat into a drain, trying to flush the taste of blood out of his mouth.

“Here, just drink this,” Max’s voice cut through the screaming in his head and he took whatever Max offered him in his hands. There was probably a taste to it however he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was the overwhelming self-hatred bubbling up.

Ooof this was a spicy time in his brain today for some reason. 

“You’re alright, Charles, it’s alright, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” Max whispered, “Take a really deep breath, that’s it, and slowly exhale. There you go.”

Charles kept spitting out blood between each exhale, He wasn’t panicking, per se, however the overwhelming feeling of blood in his mouth combined with the general shittiness in his brain was tipping him over the edge, pulling him under the darkness and dragging him to the bottom of the ocean and holding him down, letting the seawater fill his lungs and drowning in the pits of a place that he could never escape from. 

“Take it slow, Charles, that’s it,” Pierre murmured and Charles peeked his eye open to see Pierre squatting beside him. “Take your time, there’s no rush.”

He coughed hard, trying to clear the blood from his mouth and drank some more before flushing his mouth out again. 

“What caused it, Charles?” Max asked and he shrugged honestly in response. He wasn’t really sure what had caused the rapid change in behaviour aside from his minor meltdown at being a terrible person, but even still his brain didn’t normally switch so quickly like this that he went from just being in a mood to spitting blood out of his mouth. 

“My head’s all over the place,” Charles told him. “I was just thinking and then-”

Aimlessly throwing his hands up in the air, Charles struggled as the words caught in his throat and he couldn’t find a way to articulate what it was he wanted to say. 

Probably simply because it didn’t make sense. 

Nothing made sense. 

It never fucking did with him. 

His stupid fucking brain and it’s stupid fucking-

“Your burger is getting cold,” Pierre told him calmly, interrupting his brain from zooming towards that desire to throw himself in front of one of the many passing red buses and London taxis that drove the streets of his hometown. 

“What?” Charles asked.

“Your burger, it’s getting cold. Are you going to eat it?”

“I’m having a breakdown...”

Pierre shrugged, “Schedule it for later, its burger time right now.”

Staring lifelessly at him, Charles blinked up at him as Pierre stared back unwaveringly.

“Um... okay...” he murmured and after spitting one last time into the drain, he followed after Pierre back into the joint. To say he was mildly confused was an understatement but he didn’t exactly fancy arguing with Pierre on this and actually he was a bit hungry. 

They walked back to where the British Trio were still bickering (honestly Seb should spend more time with the British Trio because then he’d be more grateful for Charles and Max, he’d seriously never realised how much the trio bickered until spending time alone with them) and Charlotte was tapping away at her phone.

“You good?” Charlotte asked as Charles slid into his seat, staring still at Pierre. Pierre never said anything more as Charles started eating his burger, slowly getting distracted by Lando asking his opinion on what he should wear for a date with Sacha and his family. Charles ended up just straight up buying Lando a new outfit and getting express delivery to Lando’s house when everything he mentioned kept getting vetoed due to Lando not having the specific item of clothing Charles wanted him to. 

After that, it was as though his mood swing had never happened and Charles was back to joking and flirting with Charlotte and George, his ankle tied around Pierre’s under the table. His brain every now and again tried to tickle him and remind him that they were supposed to be having a breakdown but he studiously ignored it and focused on his friends instead. 

It wasn’t until he was tucked up in bed that night, close to falling asleep that he flew up and grabbed his phone.

Pierre   
  
**Today** 23:49   
you bastard   
  
What?   
  
i just realised what u did at mcdonalds   
  
What?   
  
the distracting me   
  
telling me to eat my burger   
  
you stopped me having a breakdown   
  
And that makes me a bastard why?   
  
bc u outsmarted me   
  
that doesn’t normally happen   
  
Really?   
  
well ppl outsmart me a lot but shush   
  
Did you good though, didn’t it?   
  
it really did  
  
thank you   
  
i dont deserve you   
  
Don’t say that   
  
You are perfect, Charles   
  
im really not   
  
You’re perfect to me   
  


**— Thursday 8th October 2020 —**

Charlotte🔥💕   
  
**Today** 00:00   
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE I LOVE YOU   
  
thank u queen i love you more💕💕💕💕   
  


Pierre   
  
**Today** 00:00   
Joyeux anniversaire Charles!  
  
merci pierre❤️  
  


Danny-Boi   
  
**Today** 00:54   
Happy birthday bro 👊🏼❤️   
  
thank uuuuuuu   
  


Charles crept out of his bedroom once he heard Max’s voice stop coming through the walls. He knew Daniel had phoned Max just before midnight so he could wish Max a happy birthday the second the clock turned over and Charles had waited up until Max and Dan were finished talking and was now sneaking through to Max’s bedroom.

“Max?” he whispered, opening the door. 

Max was scrubbing at his eyes when Charles walked in, holding Bentley the stuffed dog on his lap, “Hey. You alright?”

Charles nodded and walked into his room, climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Max.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured.

“Happy birthday, little brother,” Max replied.

“Why are you crying?”

Laughing softly, Max shook his head and wiped his eyes, “I just miss Dan. And he wrote a really cute post for my birthday and I can’t stop crying.”

“I wrote a cute post too, are you going to cry over that?”

“I haven’t seen yours yet, hang on,” Max said, arm coming up around Charles’ shoulder and pulling him back to lay on the bed properly.

Tapping onto his instagram, Charles watched Max navigate to the post and immediately like it.

“Yes I am going to cry over yours too,” Max laughed, “Can I tell you something?”

“Course you can.”

“I’ve never hated you because you can’t remember what happened. Never. I’ve never once wished you would remember. Believe me, the last eighteen years have been fucking difficult, but I would never trade any of it for anything, especially not to make you remember. I know you feel guilty, but be glad. I ignore what happened for a reason, and I know me going to Dan the other week made things bad for you, but remember you’re always my brother, and I’ll always love you no matter what. And I’m going to miss you this weekend, but you’re going to be absolutely fine, alright?”

“I know. I’m gonna see if Pierre wants to come over anyway. I asked Dad and he said it was fine.” Charles reassured.

“Pierre?”

“His Dad’s working nights from Friday to Monday so he’d be on his own, I’m going to be bored, and Charlotte’s going Cate’s this weekend, her and Dilara are, so I’m going to see if he wants to come over. There’s nothing wrong with me, I just know I’m going to be bored and I don’t want to be bugging you when this is the first time you’re going to see Dan for nearly three weeks.”

Max sighed and pulled the blanket up over them both, tucking Charles in alongside him in much the same way Max always had when they’d been little. For someone that didn’t really remember his childhood, Charles always remembered Max tucking them into whatever blanket they had around and hugging him tight to help him fall asleep. 

“If you need me, call me. I know I’ll be with Dan but you’re still my brother. And you’re the most annoying brat in the world and I love you for it, okay?” Max whispered and cuddled down into his pillow.

“Do you ever wonder about how things would be different if Dad hadn’t held our hand in court that day?” 

“Not really. I was never scared, ‘cause I had you. It was good having Dad there but I only needed you.”

For a second, Charles stared at his brother before sighing, “God you’re a sentimental bastard on our birthday.”

“Don’t ruin the mood, you absolute wankstain,” Max groaned, shoving his hand over Charles’ face and trying to cut his breathing off as Charles giggled underneath him.

“There’s a reason I’m your favourite brother,” Charles told him as he tugged at Max’s hand.

“I’d still trade you for a dog in a heartbeat.”

“Mood sis,” he sighed and scrubbed at his eyes. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure. Just don’t snore or I’ll boot you in the balls.”

“Such a kind sibling,” Charles murmured, eyes growing heavier with each passing second. He could feel Max settling down beside him, the quilt being tugged around him as Max curled onto his side opposite Charles.

“Night, Charlie,” Max whispered.

“Night, Maxy,” Charles grumbled, eyes pulling closed and letting sleep overtake him. For the first night in a long, long, _long_ time, Charles’ dreams were peppered with a weird mixture of Russian and German, and Max. It was always Max. 

Max always kept him safe.

“Happy birthday you two,” Seb grinned as they came downstairs for breakfast. The twins groaned when they walked into the living room and there were green and blue dinosaur balloons all over the floor, 18th Birthday balloons and banners strung up and a stack of cards on the coffee table.

“Dinosaurs, Dad? Seriously?” Max whined however the grin on his face showed how little he actually cared.

“It’ll always be dinosaurs with you two,” Seb replied and took each boy in his arms and pressed kisses to their foreheads. “Happy birthday, twins.”

“Thanks Dad,” they parroted. 

“Happy birthday you two,” Kimi said from behind them, hugging them both from behind and leaving them squished between their parents. 

“Happy birthday dickheads!” Valtteri’s voice filtered through and they both swung around to see Valtteri on Seb’s phone. “Sorry I can’t be there, you two good?”

Charles grinned at the phone and took it off Seb, falling down onto the sofa with Max beside him.

“Yeah, we’re good. How are you?”

“Tired, but glad I get to see you,” Valtteri smiled. “How was karting yesterday?”

“That little _bastard_ cheated!” Max protested and threw a glare at Charles.

“Oh fuck off no I didn’t! You just can’t accept that I’m faster!”

“You still don’t hold the lap record though, do you?! Because you’re shit!”

“God I’ve missed you two,” Valtteri grinned as he fell back onto his bed. “Stubborn little gits, aren’t you?”

“It’s why you love us,” Charles said before quickly turning back to Max, “It’s got nothing to do with lap records! It’s the fact that you can’t control your car and you’re blaming me!”

“You really set off a can of worms here, Val,” Seb said over their heads as the twins started arguing more and more about who the rightful king of the track was.

“I love shit-stirring when I’m three hours away and you can’t do anything to stop me creating chaos,” Valtteri laughed and shook his head fondly at the matching idiots he called his little brothers. 

“You are such a liar!” Charles yelled and pushed Max off the sofa, only to get dragged down by Max and the two of them started rolling around on the floor and smacking at each other with the balloons as their parents and big brother watched on. 

Yeah… sometimes it really was hard to believe those two had just turned eighteen…

~

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Charlotte yelled down the corridor as they walked in, running at Charles until she could leap into his arms and kiss all over his face. 

“Get off me you hoe, get off!” Charles protested, laughing as he kept trying to move his face out of Charlotte’s reach. Charlotte was making loud and over-exaggerated noises as she kissed him, arms and legs tight around Charles no matter how hard he tried to push her off. 

“Charlotte Siné, what have we told you about mounting Mr Räikkönen-Vettel?” their head of year called out and Charlotte instantly hit back with “Don’t worry, Sir, I won’t have sex with him. He’s too male for me.”

Their head of year rolled his eyes at them but walked off, leaving them both in the corridor and other sixth-formers to scoot around them.

“Can’t lie, I didn’t expect you to make it to eighteen quite a few times over the last few months,” Charlotte whispered as she cupped Charles’ jaw in her hands. “I’m so fucking glad you have, and I know things have been a bit shit but you are so loved and so damn important and I love you a lot.”

Charles felt tears building in his eyes as he nodded, pulling Charlotte to rest her head against his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he whispered back. “Thank you for being here through all this shit and listening to me and holding me and just being my friend. I love you a lot and I know we argue and we can both be absolute bitches sometimes, but I really love you and I’m really grateful to have you around.”

“Careful Räikkönen, if you’re not careful I’ll think you’ve fallen in love with me,” Charlotte quipped and the two of them laughed as they brushed away tears. “At least I would if I wasn’t convinced you was going to fall in love with a very sweet French boy who is stood at the end of the corridor and staring at you with a very loving grin on his face.”

Charles blushed and gently set Charlotte down.

“I’ll bring your present over later, I couldn’t bring it to school so I’ll drop it off after school if that’s okay,” she explained and Charles nodded.

“If it’s not a crown I don’t want it,” he shrugged and Charlotte muttered a good natured ‘darn’.

“Well guess you’re not getting anything then, you selfish bitch.”

“That’s why you love me,” he ‘winked’ (yes he was still trying. Yes he was also more than aware he looked like a smiley faced potato shape food thing when he winked. He was _trying_ okay?! Give him a break) before shoving his best friend away from him and turning around. 

Pierre was indeed stood at the other end of the corridor and when the two of them locked eyes, it was like there was no one else in the world. All of their air got sucked out of the vicinity and the only thing Charles was aware of was that scruffy haired and softly grinning French boy who Charles dreamt about. 

The boy who reflected light off him like he was the only source of light in the atmosphere.

It was weird how everything was a little bit brighter with Pierre around.

“Hey,” Charles called out, nodding his head slightly to Pierre.

“Hey,” he said back. Charles walked over to him and they awkwardly looked at each other for a moment, laughing awkwardly and averted their gazes to stare at their trainers instead.

“I got you this,” Pierre murmured, holding out a white envelope for Charles.

“Thank you,” Charles replied and opened it up, instantly laughing when he saw the front of the card, “You fucking bastard.”

Pierre grinned as Charles stared at it.

It was a card with the continent of Africa on it, with Pierre helpfully sticking a photo of a penguin on it too and crossed out the word ‘Africa’ to write ‘Antarctica’ instead.

“I was thinking about what to get you and I thought memoralising one of your iconic dyslexia mess ups would be good, especially because it’s what brought Tommy to you,” Pierre explained and Charles flipped him off as he opened the card.

It wasn’t anything fancy written inside, a simple enough ‘Cher Charles, bon anniversaire, Pierre x’ written inside.

“Thank you,” Charles whispered, shucking his backpack off his shoulder to slide it carefully between his schoolbooks. Once his backpack was shouldered again, Charles stared at him for a moment and carefully reached out for Pierre’s hand. Their fingers slot into place alongside one another and they stayed holding hands for a moment. 

At least that was until Charles moved.

He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to Pierre’s cheek. The scratchy beginnings of facial hair tickled his lips but Charles didn’t mind, even when it felt like his lips were on fire afterwards.

“Thank you,” he whispered again and Pierre simply shook his head lightly.

“Don’t thank me, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not. I’m really not. But I’m trying.”

“Sometimes trying is enough,” Pierre murmured and Charles let go of his hand to wrap his arms around Pierre’s waist. They were roughly the same height and yet he felt tiny in Pierre’s arms. Pierre wrapped his arms over the top of Charles’ backpack, folding around his shoulders and holding him tight but not so tight he felt as though he was being constructed. Pressing his face into Pierre’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

For a moment, he could stand there and pretend he was normal.

He could act like a normal kid.

He could fall in love and it was okay.

“I never want to let go of you,” Charles quietly admitted.

“I know the feeling,” Pierre agreed.

The school bell clearly didn’t and the two broke apart at its incessant ringing.

“I’ve got PE, so I’ll see you later, yeah?” Pierre said, trailing his hands down Charles’ arms and taking his hands in his as he stepped backwards.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later. I want to talk to you at break if that’s alright? Nothing bad, just about hanging out this weekend.”

“Oh yeah, sounds good, we’ll talk at break,” Pierre promised and with a final squeeze to Charles’ hands, he spun on his heel and walked off towards the gym.

 _Shit_ he was so damn gone for this stupid boy...

**— Saturday 11th October 2020 —**

Charles groaned as he read the message from Daniel. 

He’d woken up to a snapchat from Max and when he’d opened it, it had been a picture of Max fast asleep against his pillow, a blush climbing down his face that was clearly not from being tired and rather from something else and when Charles read the caption, he knew it was that bastard of a boyfriend-in-law. 

Daniel had written ‘think I tired your brother out’ and Charles quickly screenshot it before sending back a photo of his middle finger as payment. 

He seriously had no idea what else to say other than that he was thoroughly horrified.

Now that Charles had a designated time that Pierre was coming over, he rolled out of bed and decided to go in search of some breakfast. It was weird being in the house with just his Dads. It wasn’t often that Charles was alone, normally there was at least one brother nearby or Charlotte was over, but instead it was just Charles and his Dads and it was _weird_. 

He could hear laughter as he walked down the stairs, trying to get his hoodie straight whilst not fall down the stairs. 

Once he got to the bottom step, instead of jumping off and loudly announcing his presence like he normally did, he quietly stepped off and walked to the kitchen. 

Dad was sat on the counter, a cup of coffee balancing in his hand on his thigh as he laughed. Isä was stood between Dad’s knees, his hands resting on his hips as he pressed his forehead into Dad’s shoulder. They were both laughing, their shoulders shaking and even from here, Charles could see the happy grins on their faces. 

They’d argued a lot over recent weeks but things seemed okay right now and Charles was simply praying that it stayed like this. He didn’t exactly know how to deal with the idea of his Dads splitting up, and Ada had told him he wasn’t allowed to consider that thought process at the moment when he was still too ‘mentally fragile’, which you know, fair enough. He had wanted to throw himself in front of a bus three days ago after all. 

“You alright, Charlie? What are you lurking for?” Seb asked and Charles smiled as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Sorry, was just thinking. Do we have any crumpets?” he asked and looked into the cupboard. 

“Hmm, your brother asked us to buy some and then never ate them so they should be in the cupboard next to the fridge,” Kimi murmured and Charles grimaced when he heard the sound of his parents kissing behind him.

“Need I remind you I’m still in the kitchen and as a good Catholic child do not need to witness this unholiness,” Charles joked only to yelp when he got slapped upside the head. He turned to glare at Kimi only to find that Seb was cupping Kimi’s jaw and kissing him. 

“Excuse me, Sirs!” Charles protested and threw a crumpet at them to get them to break apart.

His Dads laughed as they broke apart, Seb lobbing the crumpet back at Charles’ head and smacking him in the middle of his forehead. 

“Ow!” Charles laughed, rubbing his forehead. It hadn’t actually hurt, it was more just the shock of the moment that had caused the pain. 

“You are the most uncatholic person I have ever met, and you’re not even Catholic anyway, Charles. You were never Christened _and_ you got banned from a church because you kept proclaiming that you didn’t understand why you had to sing about ghosts, you’re not allowed to call us unholy when you lost your virginity when you were still _underage_ ,” Seb pointedly said and Charles flushed under his parents gaze. 

Telling them he’d lost his virginity to a random boy that he now couldn’t remember when Charles was only fifteen and the guy was definitely nearly eighteen hadn’t been his smartest decision, but he’d also done so whilst in an extremely shit mental place and he’d just clung onto his Dad and poured out everything on his mind, including his regret about some of the people he’d slept with. 

His Dads never slut-shamed him or made him feel bad for the amount of people he’d slept with. They were surprised, especially when Charles admitted that sometimes he _omitted_ his age and slept with people he definitely shouldn’t have. His Dad had rinsed him for that and told him how dangerous it could be and Charles had felt suitably reprimanded, but it’s not like it mattered anymore. 

He wasn’t even able to hold someone’s hand let alone worry about sleeping with them. 

Actually, that was a lie. 

There was one person’s hand he could hold. Still wasn’t sure if he could sleep with him at this current stage though. 

“Pierre’s coming over at like 2ish, can I still order food in?” Charles asked and Seb nodded as he took a swig of his coffee. 

“Yeah that’s fine, do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Nah, I’m gonna ask P when he gets here, don’t want him to think that I’m taking away decisions and stuff. I’ll let you know later.”

“Well,” Seb looked over to Kimi before looking back at Charles, “Me and your Dad are going to go out for a bit this evening, not long, only an hour or so to drop a housewarming and baby gift off for a lady and her husband that work in the office. Have a good time okay, but if you need us, just give us a call and we’ll come home as quick as we can, alright? If you’re not going to be okay being in the house by yourself with Pierre, that’s fine, one of us can stay, but if you’re up for being by yourself for an hour, you can.”

“I’m not going to top myself or something, Dad, I’m alright, I can do it, I’m a big boy,” Charles stubborn said and Seb held his arm out. Kimi moved aside and Charles slipped into place on his Dad’s left side whilst Isä stood on the right. 

Seb put his arm around Charles’ shoulder and pulled him in, kissing his temple as he whispered, “You’ll always be my little boy, have been from the day I first met you and you’d stumble through speaking Hungarian, and you will be until you’re old and grey and stumbling through English still even though you’ve spoken it predominantly for your entire life, okay?”

“I know, Dad,” Charles murmured and hugged both his Dads tight. “Can I ask you something though?”

“You can always ask anything kiddo, you know that,” Kimi said and ruffled Charles’ hair fondly. 

“Why have you two been arguing so much? What’s going on? ‘Cause you really started to scare me and Max that you were gonna split up and Max was crying the other week and I bet he’s told Dan and… I just want to know everything’s okay.”

“Max was crying?” Seb asked and Charles nodded. “He’s not said anything to us, did he say it to you?”

“No, I just heard him. He was on the phone to Daniel and he was saying he was scared and I don’t know what Daniel told him but I know Max said that he was going to mention it to his doctors that he was scared about spiralling because of it. I get it if things are rough but please just don’t split up, we don’t want you to.”

Kimi sighed and put his arm around Charles and Seb, hugging both of them and Charles buried his head between their hearts like he used to when he was a little kid and all he wanted was for his Dads to keep him safe. 

“Me and your Dad were arguing about a job, kid. That’s what happened,” Kimi told him and Charles sharply looked up. The only other time his Dads had argued about a job was when Dad had then gone to America for two months when the kids had only been eight years old. 

“What job?” Charles carefully asked. 

Seb took a big sigh before answering. 

“The company that I worked for when I first met you and Max. They’d offered me the managing partner position.”

“But that’s in Holland…”

“Yeah, I know, and I was considering it for a while and that’s why your Dad and I was arguing. He remembers how hard the job was, all I think about is that it gave me you and Max. He sees more rationally that I do, just like with Dan and Max. If it wasn’t for Max telling Daniel all the good reasons why he should do a placement in Australia in the New Year, he wouldn’t because he’s just focusing too much on everything else.”

“Are you taking the job?”

“No,” Seb told him and Charles finally breathed out the sigh of pure relief that had been building in him and threatening to turn into a mild panic attack if his Dad admitted he was going to leave them. “We had a lot of arguments and conversations about it and I came to the conclusion that I can’t take the job. It’s a two-year contract at minimum and I can’t split up with your Dad or leave you three behind in a different country. Family before the job, kiddo, you’re more important.”

“I’m glad you’re not going Dad,” Charles murmured and only pulled away because his crumpets popped up. He felt his Dad run his hand down the back of Charles’ hoodie before coming back up to ruffle his hair and Charles lent into the touch. 

When he’d been little, he’d loved people playing with his hair. He still did now. There was nothing better in his opinion and no matter how much he squawked and protested and tried to duck out of their touches, he’d forever love it. 

He didn’t remember much from his childhood, those early years, but there was one thing that had been running through his mind lately and as he buttered his crumpets and set off the coffee machine off to make himself a spiced pumpkin latte (yes he’s aware it’s a basic ass drink but he thrives on being a basic bitch), he tried to make sense of it. 

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you talked to us and held our hands in court and hid us when Mom tried to yell at us,” he said and smiled softly when he felt his Dad press a kiss to the back of his hair. 

“You two are two of the best things to ever happen to me, I’ll always protect you,” Seb whispered and pulled Charles backwards into him. Charles smiled around his crumpet as he kept eating it, leaning back into his Dad as he did so. 

Shit wasn’t _good_ , but it was okay, and Charles would take that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've missed my chaos demon :')
> 
> Kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at [3303andmore](https://3303andmore.tumblr.com) xxx
> 
> **Fic Requests are currently closed xx**


	19. Finally // beautiful stranger - October 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Mentioned past suicide attempt in passing**
> 
> I really don't have much to say other than I hope you enjoy lmao
> 
> also thank u to the anon who dropped [this ask](https://3303andmore.tumblr.com/post/636486727762083840/the-song-finally-beautiful-stranger-by-halsey) into my inbox and inspired the chapter song for this one, it's the most perfect vibe :')

**\-- Saturday 10th October --**

“Hey!” Charles grinned as he pulled the door open, moving out of the way for Pierre to step in. “Dump your trainers there, hang your jacket there, and then do you want a drink?”

Pierre looked around the foyer as he followed Charles’ instructions. Charles himself was walking backwards towards the kitchen, smiling softly at the pure wonder in Pierre’s eyes.

He always wondered what it was like to see his house from someone else’s eyes. 

He’d been six when his parents had started having this house built and had been eight when he moved in, but Charles had never cared. The only thing he’d cared about as a kid was how fast he could run down the hallway and whether his bedroom was next to his twin brother’s or not.

Living in England was the first time the twins had slept in separate rooms permanently, as they’d slept in bunk beds (Charles had always been on top because Max was and always will be a bottom) or slept in single beds on the opposite sides of their shared room. 

He used to sneak into Max’s bedroom at first, working out the timing so that he could sleep beside Max before creeping back to his own bedroom to be ‘woken up’ by his parents to get ready for school each day. They’d always cuddled up through the night and then when he’d ‘grown up’, Charles had stopped caring about it. He’d pushed his brother away and spent more time out of the house than he did in it (aside from when he was fifteen… but that’s a whole other issue).

But now, he understood the world and the house and why his parents had had it custom built. 

It was _theirs_.

Three storeys, monochromatic colour scheme with pictures of the boys growing up all over the walls. Drawings they’d done, school awards (mainly Max and Valtteri’s, Charles didn’t really have many of those, but his Dads had framed his acceptance letter to LCF so it was something at least), his Dads degrees and their wedding photos. Even that little scribble Charles had done when he was eight on the wall by the front door was still there because it’s what made this house _theirs_. 

They’d grown up here, got themselves boyfriends, traipsed mud through the house and screamed every single year for a dog (that was mainly Charles who did that but it still counts). 

And he loved his house, but he knew he didn’t have that same sense of wonderment that other people did. 

Pierre has been to his house a few times before. Once to drop Charles off after a run right at the start of their... _acquaintanceship_ , that time that Charles had proceeded to have a word explosion about what had happened to him that made him ‘fucked up’, and once just before school started to take those photos of Charles. It made him smile a lot that Dad had printed that photo of Charles looking all brooding with the light and put it on his desk at work. 

And obviously he’d been over for Charlotte’s birthday, but Charles didn’t really count that. 

He couldn’t remember much of that day. 

“Are you alright?” He asked as Pierre looked around in wonder.

“Yeah, your house is so cool, you’re so lucky.”

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, smiling softly, “We definitely are. I’m very lucky to have this life. Things could’ve been very different. Anyway, drink?”

“Sure.” Pierre followed him into the kitchen and watched as Charles dug in the fridge before shutting it and sticking his head into the ‘wine closet’. It didn’t really house all that much wine and instead housed a lot of apple juice, coke, Dr Pepper because Charles is a child and likes the taste of marzipan, bottled water for when Max is going through a rough time mentally and can’t drink anything but sealed water, and a whole host of other random drinks.

“Stick your head in there and take whatever you want,” Charles offered and took one of the apple juice cartons for himself.

Pierre grabbed a water and followed after Charles. His Dads were currently in the art room doing _something_ and Charles prayed that they weren’t _doing the dirty_ in there. His Dads were nearly _fifty_ it was gross that they could even think about having sex. 

As they walked up to Charles’ bedroom, Pierre looked around at the pictures on the walls. It was mainly professional school photos of them growing up, and he stopped when he got to the last one that had been taken of them before the twins had left primary school.

They were sat on a weird little box thing, Valtteri to the right, with Max in the middle and Charles at the front. Even at the age of eleven, Charles had a smirk on his face and his hair was styled in such a specifically messy way that you knew it was intentional. Max was awkward, obviously, he always was, and Valtteri just looked bored. The school photographer had forced Valtteri to put his arms around the twins’ waists where they were sitting in front of him and it was clear that none of them were happy.

Well, Charles was.

He always thrived in front of a camera.

“How old was you all here?” Pierre asked.

“Me and Max were either just about to turn eleven or just had turned eleven. It was our last year of primary school and Val’s first year of secondary.”

“You look so different, especially in a blazer and tie. Did you always wear that then?”

“Yep. We’ve always had the same uniform. Except when Valtteri and Max were both in year 11, they were prefects so they got a different tie to me.”

Pierre frowned and looked up at him, “What’s a prefect?”

“It’s essentially like this person that has super good attendance, good grades, doesn’t get into trouble. It doesn’t really make a difference much but it’s meant to be an incentive to make you work harder.”

“How come you didn’t get it?”

“Because I got suspended four times in year 11,” Charles shrugged. “Twice for fighting, once for getting a girl off during class, it was her idea before you start on me and we were both sixteen and I was whispering in her ear but I never touched her, and once because my teacher found me getting fucked behind the bike sheds. I got in a lot of trouble for not being able to behave. Or keep my trousers on apparently.”

Pierre laughed as Charles explained it.

“I’d never call you out for it. It’s strange how different you are to your brothers though,” he said as he looked over the picture again. Max and Valtteri definitely looked more like siblings. They both had lighter hair, both had light eyes, both round and chubby cheeks. 

Charles was the odd one out.

He always had been.

He never quite fit in with brothers. He’d always been artier and loved fashion and didn’t care about school. Max and Valtteri both achieved straight A’s and whilst Charles struggled through getting a pass sometimes. 

“Did you want to be a prefect?” Pierre asked and Charles scoffed.

“God no. Charlotte was, so was Dan and Lewis. Charlotte got her prefect tie taken off her a couple times for getting too involved with my bad ideas but she’d always get it back. I hated school. Detested it with every fibre of my being and didn’t want to do anything that made it look good.”

“And then you got yourself admitted to LCF which is all Forests will want to talk about now that you’re a year 13.”

“Nah they won’t. They’re not allowed to without my permission. After what happened with Mick, Dad kicked off at school about how they should’ve noticed more, so they won’t do anything without my consent because they’re scared that my Dad will do something to their reputation,” Charles shrugged. He nodded his head upwards and Pierre followed him up the last few steps and into Charles’ bedroom.

He’d cleaned it up over the last few days. Any dirty laundry had been put into the laundry bin in the spare room, he’d changed his bed sheets (well, Isä had. Charles had sat by his window and watched), he’d cleaned his desk up and shoved all his art and fashion materials under his desk and onto the bookshelf. He’d even _vacuumed_. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d vacuumed.

Pierre wasn’t going to be sleeping in Charles’ room but they were going to be here for the majority of their time, and Charles wanted a good impression for the other boy.

He wanted him to know that even when Charles’ brain fell apart and it was hard to clean his room, the brighter days did happen and he could live like a normal person sometimes.

“Are these all your sketchbooks?” Pierre asked as he walked over to the bookshelf. Charles joined beside him, their elbows brushing as Pierre tilted his head to look at what Charles had written on the spines.

“ _CRV 10 Art and Design_ ,” Pierre murmured, “What’s that one?”

“That’s from when I was ten. It was my first proper, _proper_ sketchbook. My Isä, Kimi, took me to an art installation in Central. They were showing off some work, some of that Rothko bastard, Lichtenstein, Magritte, Manet, Twombly, all artists I had a massive interest in, and he took me to see their work. And once we got there, I didn’t know what was going on, and he gave me that and a pencil and said ‘have fun’. And I walked around the exhibit with my Dad following me for like... six hours I think? And I just sat on the floor and copied their art style and wrote notes about their work. It’s completely incoherent, I can’t read it at all, but it’s my favourite sketchbook. It was the first time I felt like people cared about my interests. My Dads always let me draw and do art and stuff, but this was different. Dad sat there with my backpack and a book and read or did some art studies himself the entire time and never once made me hurry up. I went back again like a week later with him again and it was just... amazing. I still think about it a lot.”

“That’s amazing,” Pierre murmured, “It’s so cool your Dad did something like that with you.”

“Yeah, Isä has a PhD in fine art, his specific work is to do with graffiti through the ages, and I started a rumour once that he was this really infamous anonymous graffiti artist, Banksy, and no one ever knew it was me that started it. People will believe anything if you give them even a smidge of evidence and my Dad’s PhD being emotive graffiti through time is clearly enough,” Charles shrugged, his heart fluttering when Pierre smiled softly. 

Whilst Pierre tilted his head to continue staring at Charles’ sketchbooks and other miscellaneous books on his bookshelf, he stared at him. 

He’d not dressed particularly special, he looked the same as normal. Skinny black jeans with rips at the knees, a black t-shirt, white socks. It wasn’t a particularly _interesting_ outfit, rather it was one that Charles seemed to see every day. It was a classic look but it was _normal_.

So why did Pierre wearing it make it seem like it was the most original and perfect outfit ever?

“How’s your French going?” Pierre asked and Charles barely refrained from saying ‘I’d love to speak French between your legs’ before he shook his head and remembered that he could barely even look at this boy without forgetting how to breathe. There was no way he’d be able to let himself think about _that_ without definitely passing out. 

“Um, alright I guess. You can read my work if you want, correct it, I don’t care, Carole normally has to read through it like six times anyway to try and understand my scribbles,” Charles said and nudged his head towards his desk where his French notebook was sitting beside a copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_. Pierre walked over to it and picked up the book instead of Charles’ French notebook, flicking it between his fingers as he looked at the many tabs, highlights, dog eared and well-thumbed pages in it. 

“What’d you do this for?” he asked.

“I’m writing an essay on it for English. Coursework shit, you know how it is.”

“Oh cool, what are you doing your essay on?” Pierre turned around and walked back to Charles, delicately sitting himself at the foot of Charles’ bed and crossing his legs. Charles himself was sat at the opposite end, legs folded beneath him as he leaned into the headboard. 

He started to explain his essay concept, constantly peppering in ‘not that I think it makes sense’ however Pierre stayed silent other than offering hums and nods in all the right places.

“Do you like Catcher, then?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I know it’s like a really... ironic thing for some Gen Z kid to like Catcher in the Rye, but we had to read it for class when we was in year 10, and year 10 was... _that_ year. And Max was off school for about a month in total, the few days off school after it happened, the winter break and then when we went back, and normally we go Finland and Germany at Christmas to see family and we couldn’t that year because Max had hospital appointments and therapy, and we decided we’d do our English homework together. And obviously I’m shit at reading, so Max read the entire thing to me and we worked out all the questions together and had this whole debate on whether Holden Caulfield is actually a pretentious little bastard or whether people are just rude, and I remember saying something, I can’t even remember what it was, but Max laughed. And it was the first time he’d laughed in twenty seven days. First time he’d smiled as well. It seems stupid but… I really thought I was going to lose him that year. Not physically because he wasn’t given even the smallest chance to do something, but mentally. I thought ‘that’s it, I’ve lost him, my brother’s going to change and I don’t know what to do anymore’. But that laugh, it was his old laugh. And he smacked me, and he pushed me off my chair, and he said that I was only defending Holden because he was too much like me.”

Charles took the copy of _Catcher_ off Pierre and flicked through it, a soft smile coming to his face when he flipped to page 127 and saw Max’s highlighted words and little scribble he’d left behind in the margin. 

**_everything stayed right where it was_** _Fear of growing up - yeah, same_

“Max doesn’t like change. But he’s done so good with things changing recently, and like yeah I’ve got separation problems with Max that I’ve got to work on with Ada before uni, but he’s got a lot of shit in his head and knowing how scared he was and yet reading this stupid book and laughing, he felt _okay_. He wasn’t good, but it was _okay_. I know it’s a stupid reason to love this book, but it gave me my brother back and it just means a lot I guess,” Charles rambled. 

Throughout his little monologue (or was it a soliloquy? No it was a monologue, he’d done a speech, not spoken thoughts. _Shit_ maybe he did pay attention in English class), he’d felt his cheeks explode a violent red that rivalled his stupid Ferrari shirt that he wore to bed last night and had thrown mindlessly onto his windowsill, now a beacon of his attraction. 

“I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you,” Pierre whispered. 

Charles unfolded his legs and stretched them out, shoving his arms above his head as he did so to make the movement look a bit more natural than simply trying to be close to Pierre. 

“Can I?” Pierre asked, pointing at his leg and Charles nodded instantly. His warm hand came to rest on his shin, fingers tapping an unknown rhythm against him.

It was grounding.

Or maybe that was just Pierre.

Everything this boy did now made Charles feel normal.

“It’s hard being Max’s brother,” Charles slowly admitted, “It’s hard being Kimi’s son. It’s hard not remembering my childhood and knowing my twin brother does. It’s hard knowing my twin brother tried to kill himself because he got scared. It’s really fucking hard feeling like you’re forever overlooked and not important. I’m not saying my Dads shouldn’t have focused on Max because I love Max a lot but he needs so much support and love and I... didn’t. I didn’t care. I didn’t need people. As long as Max didn’t _detest_ my existence, I thought I was fine. To nearly lose Max-” Charles stopped to take a breath, eyes closing as a stray tear escapes, “It made me feel like I’d failed. Especially when Max thought I’d caused Daniel to cheat on him. It’s like, I’d do anything for my brother. I _did_ do everything. And I just made everything worse and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“You keep fighting,” Pierre told him calmly. 

“What if I don’t want to, Pez? What if I’ve got to concede?”

Pierre’s lips quirked to the left slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he rolled his eyes.

“I’ve never known you to give up and I don’t expect you to start now.”

“I think I’ve got to.”

“I refuse to believe it. Charles Räikkönen-Vettel, losing a fight? Must be make believe. You want people to know your story? Then tell it. Tell it how you want it. How you need it. Your hands are your talent, Charles. Make something. Destroy something. Get people talking. Because that’s you winning the war. You are the main character in everyone’s story now, Charles. It’s time to own it.”

He didn’t feel like the main character. Sometimes he didn’t even feel like a side character.

“You have a whole lifetime ahead of you Charles, and you still have so much heart and love to give. You don’t need to fix everything in one. Give yourself chance to find your feet.”

“Will you be there?” Charles whispered. He couldn’t trust his voice to go any louder. He couldn’t trust that he would be able to still keep going if Pierre said no.

He couldn’t trust that he’d have a reason to keep shutting down Mick’s voice in his head if he didn’t have Pierre by his side, smiling and encouraging him every step of the way. 

“I’ll be there for as long as you need me,” Pierre answered, voice equally as soft. 

Leaning forward, he picked Pierre’s hand up off his shin and used the leverage to pull Pierre upwards. He ended up sprawling beside Charles, them both staring at each other until Charles broke the eye contact and looked down at his hand. Taking Pierre’s fingers in his, Charles tied them together and closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment.

Pierre was stroking his thumb over Charles’, the nail scratching slightly against the bone and sending a shiver of delight through Charles’ body. 

“How’s your head been lately?” Pierre quietly asked. 

Shrugging limply, Charles pulled his eyes open and stared at Pierre.

“I’ve been doing okay. I mean, obviously Wednesday was a bit shit but I did okay. And thank you for helping out and all that.”

“It’s alright, I just want you to be okay.”

Charles shifted a little bit closer, putting his head down on Pierre’s shoulder. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing, trying to ignore the part of his brain that was screaming at him to get the hell away from Pierre.

It’s funny how that voice sounded like Mick’s, yet Charles wasn’t so scared of it anymore. 

“Can I put my hand in your hair?” Pierre asked and Charles nodded. Slowly, Pierre brought his arm up around Charles’ head and started toying with his hair, fingers running through his dark locks and pulling the knots apart.

“Your hair is so soft,” Pierre whispered.

“I’d hope so. Spend like £50 on hair stuff a month to keep it this good.”

“It smells like honey,” Pierre grinned, “Do you stick you head in a jar?”

“That would probably be cheaper,” Charles laughed, snuggling into Pierre. The hand that had been previously tied with Pierre’s was now resting against Pierre’s heart, feeling the melodic thump under his fingers. 

“You falling asleep on me, calamar?” Pierre asked. 

Shaking his head, Charles yawned and muttered out a “no” that had Pierre laugh softly.

“It’s okay, Sharl, you can sleep.” Charles felt Pierre’s fingers stall for a moment and there was some hesitation before Pierre lent in and kissed the crown of his head, fingers going back to scrapping a soothing motion through Charles’ hair. 

Pushing himself up for a moment, Charles scrubbed at his eyes and reached over blearily for his TV remote and turned it on. 

“Put on whatever you want. If you want to play FIFA or COD, my PlayStation controller is on the other bedside table. I can sleep through anything, so don’t worry about me,” Charles explained, handing Pierre the remote and going back to cuddling into him. He pulled Pierre’s arm so it was around him against and pressed his head into Pierre’s shoulder. 

He stayed awake for a little while, watching Pierre scroll through Charles’ Netflix.

“You ever seen this?” Pierre asked, stopping on a show called _The Hook Up Plan_.

“No, what is it?”

“It’s French, and this girl breaks up with her boyfriend and then ends up with a male escort and then shit goes down with her friends. It’s a bit bad but kind of addictive at the same time,” Pierre explained. “And the guy, Jules, is hot.”

“Put it on! I need more hot guys now I’ve lost Daniel to university!” Charles ordered, and whilst Charles couldn’t see, he knew Pierre was rolling his eyes at him. 

The music started playing and when a lady on screen opened the door, murmuring a sultry ‘bonjour’, Charles can’t stop himself from copying her. Pierre’s laughter vibrated through him, and Charles felt himself getting drunk off the feeling.

He’d never cared about making someone laugh like this.

There was a difference between wanting _people_ to laugh and wanting to make _someone_ laugh, Charles was finding.

Pierre started threading his fingers through Charles’ hair, his head resting against Charles’ as they watched the show. Just before Charles fell asleep, he took hold of Pierre’s free hand and dragged it closer to him, not exactly tying their fingers together but rather weaving his fingers between Pierre’s. Pierre’s _extremely long_ fingers were cold as they pressed against Charles’, and whilst normally he hated when he was cold in any way, this time it was quite nice. It kept him grounded and stopped that wave of anxiety creeping up his body. 

He watched for a moment as the girl in the show, Elsa, ran through Paris, heading into what Charles guessed was her place of work. 

“Do you miss France?” He asked quietly, voice thick as he yawned. 

For a moment Pierre didn’t say anything, and Charles wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. He kept watching the show, smiling when the guy started saying something about whores. Pierre had put the English subtitles on, clearly forgetting Charles’ dyslexia made it hard for him to read and instead just focused on translating the French that he heard. 

He almost forgot that he was lying on Pierre, until he felt Pierre smile against his hair. 

“I did, but things are better now, when you’ve got something that makes you feel at home here, it makes missing France a bit less painful,” Pierre grinned, squeezing Charles’ hand lightly. 

“I want to go to Paris one day.”

“I’ll take you,” Pierre promised, “Nous irons au parc, à la tour eiffel, au café-”

Pierre keeps whispering in French, voice low and slow and honestly Charles could listen to this boy read him the entire dictionary and he’d pay attention. Well, he’d probably fall asleep purely because he’s now going to always associate Pierre speaking French with falling asleep according to that weird psychology shit that Max babbled on about sometimes, but he wasn’t necessarily mad about it. If he had his way, he’d have a lot of time to listen to Pierre speak French.

The last thing he thought about before he fell asleep was that he remembered he had an email from Carole waiting in his inbox berating him for not having attended his French speaking support lesson on Friday. 

Ah well, he’d get Pierre to speak French with him later instead. 

He woke up about an hour later, still holding onto Pierre and realised that at some point in his sleep, he’d turned slightly and now had his leg thrown over Pierre’s. 

His brain panicked slightly, screaming at him that he was acting like a slut for essentially pressing himself into Pierre but he chose to ignore it. Ada had told him that he needed to start putting what he wanted into practice, and what he wanted was the ability to hold Pierre’s hand and kiss his cheek and maybe his mouth one day if he was lucky enough, and whilst he didn’t necessarily think that sleeping _on_ Pierre was what he’d wanted out of this, he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

“You alright?” Pierre asked, fingers still in Charles’ hair and letting go immediately when Charles pushed himself up. He rolled off Pierre, stretching his arms above his head and ignoring the way that Pierre’s eyes automatically trailed down his body to look at where his shirt rode up. Pierre quickly averted his eyes when he realised what he was doing and Charles couldn’t stop the small flutter of warmth at the pure level of respect that Pierre had. 

He might’ve fucked up when he called Charles fucked up, but he’d learnt from it, he’d apologised, and Charles didn’t feel mad at himself anymore for falling in love with this boy. 

“What do you want for dinner? My Dads are going out for a couple of hours but I’m going to steal his card so we can order something.”

“Why don’t we cook? I’ll teach you something my Papa makes.”

Charles stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly before asking, “But I’m pretty, why are you making me do a servant’s job?”

“Pretty boys still have to learn how to cook for themselves one day,” Pierre grinned, his fingers coming up to tug at the chain around his neck and run his fingers up and down the penchant on it. 

“You’re Christian?” Charles asked when he saw the cross that Pierre was flicking back and forth between his fingers. 

“Catholic yeah, a lot of people are Catholic in France, Charles.”

“I got banned from church,” He grinned and Pierre instantly dropped his head into his hand, scrubbing his hand across his face before looking back up at him. 

“Do I want to know what you did?”

“I was eight.”

“How the-”

“We had to go to church sometimes with school, mainly at Christmas, to go and sing hymns and stuff. Not gonna lie, the hymns slap hard and I rather enjoyed them even though I questioned the content a lot, but I always asked a lot of questions anyway to the point that they kept asking me to stop. And then I decided not to stop and keep going and I ended up completely pulling apart this one verse, I can’t even remember where it is, but it’s the one about ‘you should not lie with a man’ or something. And Max, don’t ask me why, knew that the translation from whatever it was into English had been changed. That the word ‘man’, which is what was in the King James Bible, had originally been ‘child’. And I basically just started pulling it all apart, all the inconsistency and telling them that I didn’t have a problem with Christianity, I had a problem with the lies. And then the priest said something about my Dads and basically said I was only being so tetchy because my fathers are gay and I was like ‘well yeah but I don’t like being lied to either’. They banned me, and then when I was… either twelve or thirteen, I can’t remember, I ended up back there and the priest’s son was four years older than me at school, so I was year eight and he was a year eleven. And I go up to him, right in front of the priest, tug this kid down and kissed him. And the priest was so mad at me that he got a restraining order. It was barely a kiss, like I pressed my lips to this guy for half a second if that and the guy didn’t even care, but the priest was really mad. And that’s how I got banned.”

Pierre stared at him blankly for a moment, blinking slowly before shaking his head. 

“Somehow that does not surprise me at all. You’ve never been able to behave, have you?”

Charles blushed and shook his head, looking down at his lap and fiddling with his fingers. 

His Dad had always complained about that, never impressed when Charles came home and had to admit that he was on behavioural school report again because he’d been getting into too much trouble or rolling his eyes when Isä had to tell him at dinner that Charles had been suspended from school for fighting or doing something else he shouldn’t. 

It wasn’t his fault that school had always been really difficult and no one paid attention when he said it was hard and they just told him to try harder. It was impossible to try harder when he didn’t understand anything that had ever gone on in his lessons and Max was at a different point in his education journey at all points to Charles so it’s not like he could even really lean on Max all that much. 

When he misbehaved, people paid attention to him and they’d end up forcing him into detention and he’d have 1-1 contact with his teachers and then be able to do his work. 

“You’re not good at asking for help either, are you?” Pierre asked and Charles, once again, shook his head. “If you ever need help with French, you can ask me. I want to help you, Charles.”

“There’s a lot of things I want from you but I don’t know how to ask,” Charles whispered, scratching at a bit of loose skin on his thumb to avoid looking at Pierre. Pierre’s fingers came to rest against his knee, squeezing him slightly.

“I’ll wait until you know how to ask, you know that, right?”

Charles nodded, still scratching at his thumb until Pierre gently tugged his hand away from him. Carefully, Pierre started running his finger over Charles’ thumb, scrubbing away the scratching pain that was forever present under his skin anytime that he had physical contact with someone else. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. I know you don’t like it when people are nice to you but it’s not a bad thing, Charles. You’re pretty amazing and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything but I also don’t want you to hurt yourself because you’re feeling strange, yeah?”

Pulling his hand free, Charles rolled off the bed and grabbed his hoodie, pulling it over his head and ducking to look into his mirror to check his hair was at least presentable. From Pierre running his fingers through his hair, sleeping and also the mess of his hoodie being put on, it was nowhere near presentable to go outside, however he was too lazy and grabbed a black cap, slipping it on and ruffling his hair slightly under it to make it look okay. Pierre was watching as he did so, smiling when Charles grabbed his phone off the side and slipped it into his pocket. 

“I’ll ask my Dad if he can take us to Sainsbury’s,” Charles said, holding his hand out for Pierre to take and pull him off the bed. 

Seb rolled his eyes when Charles asked but took them both to Sainsbury’s in his Mercedes G-Class that they normally used when the entire family was going somewhere.

He waited in the car whilst Charles and Pierre grabbed a basket and went for their shopping. 

“We’re going to make my favourite food Papa used to make for me when I was little,” Pierre grinned as they walked around. Charles was holding the basket as Pierre threw things in. Pasta, salt, garlic, chicken broth (what the ever living fuck was that?! Charles was absolutely baffled right now), heavy cream, a load of other things that he was quickly losing track of to say that he was the one carrying the basket. 

“Are you going to tell me what it is we’re going to be making?” Charles asked, swapping hands when the basket got heavy. 

Honestly, he was slightly outraged that Pierre wasn’t flexing those muscles and carrying the heavy basket himself. 

“Nope.”

“Why?!”

“Because I don’t know how to translate it into English,” Pierre grinned. 

“Fucking wankstain,” Charles muttered, pouting playfully. 

Wrapping both hands around the handle, he hefted it higher, purposefully making an ‘eurgh’ noise that had Pierre look at him with an eyebrow raised. Charles looked at him angelically, smiling at Pierre until he rolled his eyes and held his hand out to take the basket off Charles. 

“Oh you’re so kind,” Charles said as he passed it over. 

The only disappointment was that Charles couldn’t stare at Pierre’s muscles as they were hidden underneath his coat. 

He knew Pierre caught his eyes lingering but he didn’t say anything, simply moved the basket to the crook of his arm and carried on stocking it full of stuff they needed.

“You know I’m paying, right?” Charles said as they walked to the self-service checkouts. 

“I figured,” Pierre smiled.

The total ended up coming to just over £30 as Charles really didn’t know if they had in half the things that Pierre asked if they did (like flour? Did Charles _look_ like the kind of boy that came from a family that was about to win the _Great British Bake Off_?! How should he know if they had flour in?), filling a couple bags. 

Charles would like it to be known that they were reusable bags that he’d nicked from the back of his Dad’s car as he cares about the environment, okay? Save the turtles. 

Pierre carried the bags out whilst Charles carried his new parsley plant. Pierre had been adamant that they would’ve been fine with freshly packaged parsley, however the second Charles had caught sight of the fact that he could have a _plant_ he’d grabbed it and refused to let go. 

He was now a proud plant owner. He plans on calling his new plant Toby, if you were wondering. 

When they reached the car again, Charles climbed in first and shoved Toby the Parsley Plant through the gap between the two front seats. 

“Hey Dad, meet Toby,” Charles grinned as Pierre climbed in after him, putting their shopping at their feet as Seb turned to stare at Charles’ new plant. 

“Why do you have a plant?”

“It’s parsley,” Pierre told him, sighing fondly at the excited grin on Charles’ face when he pulled it back and put it into the middle backseat, wrapping the seat belt around it and putting his hand on Toby the Parsley Plant’s pot to keep him safe for the five-minute drive home. 

“Are you cooking with it?” Seb asked.

“Yep. I tried to tell him that _Toby_ was going to end up getting a haircut but he just... doesn’t care. He’s got overly attached to a parsley plant, Seb.”

“Excuse me, his name is Toby. He’s not just a _parsley plant_ ,” Charles interrupted, “he doesn’t like it when you talk about him.”

“Charles,” Seb sighed, turning in his seat, “Kid, I love you, I really do. But it’s a parsley plant and it’s weird that you’ve named it.”

For a moment Charles didn’t say anything, simply stared back before picking Toby up and cradling him to his chest. 

“Well that’s no way to talk to your grandson, you’ve hurt his feelings now,” Charles told him, kissing Toby’s pot lovingly. 

“Oh for God’s sake,” Dad sighed, turning back to look out the window and scrubbing his hands across his face. Charles grinned across at Pierre, biting his lip to hold in his laughter as Seb started driving them home. 

Yeah this was probably the weirdest thing he’d done in a while…

They didn’t end up starting to make dinner until it was nearly 6pm. Seb and Kimi had not long gone out, kissing Charles fondly on the forehead as he grumbled at them ruffling his hair, strategically avoiding the fact that only a couple hours prior he’d had Pierre’s fingers in his hair and he’d not wanted him to stop. 

“Papa says he doesn’t know how to translate it into English either,” Pierre said as they walked into the kitchen, “But I know what we’re doing so it’s fine.”

“I mean, I can probably boil pasta and that’s about it, so I really hope you know what you’re doing because I’m already lost.”

“Get a saucepan out big enough to boil this entire bag of pasta and fill it with water,” Pierre told him, holding up the bag.

Charles ended up looking through numerous cupboards and drawers until he finally located a giant pan. Was it _too_ big? Maybe. But Pierre said it needed to be big and Charles didn’t really know what _big_ meant so he’s going with what he’s got and his gut said this pot was the right one. His gut also told him to adopt Toby the Parsley Plant, so Charles thinks his gut might be quite smart sometimes.

After filling the pan three quarters of the way full with water and putting it on the hob to start boiling, Charles turned his attention to staring at Pierre’s ass. 

Pretty good ass, in his opinion. 

“Did you put salt in the water?” Pierre asked as he stood up from staring at the oven. He’d somehow managed to turn it on and Charles was partly convinced it was witchcraft. He seriously had no idea how it worked. 

“No?” Charles answered, “Are you supposed to salt pasta water?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yeah…”

“I thought you said you know how to cook pasta!”

“I do! My Dad just normally starts and I stare at it until it’s done.”

Pierre stared at him for a moment, blinking numerous times with his mouth dropped open, before simply shaking his head and grabbing the salt they’d bought (turned out Charles did in fact already own salt but it was in a different packaging so he didn’t realise) and started salting the water. 

Charles sat on the countertop as he watched Pierre cook, smiling at the ease with which Pierre moved around Charles’ kitchen like he owned it. Pierre had some butter, garlic, flour, that chicken broth that Charles still didn’t understand what it was and other stuff mixing in his pan, whilst Charles scrolled through his Spotify looking for some music to put on. 

“Do you have a preference?” Charles asked. Pierre shook his head and Charles kept scrolling until his fingers paused over the _High School Musical 3_ soundtrack. He hadn’t listened to it in a long time, not since June when Pierre had called him fucked up. 

Whilst part of him didn’t want to ever touch it again, it had been his comfort movie for a long time and the soundtrack was one of his favourite things purely because it reminded him of all the good times growing up and also his family keeping him safe when he’d had his breakdown in June. 

“What’s this?” Pierre asked as Charles pressed play on the first song. 

“High School Musical 3 soundtrack.”

“What’s High School Musical?” Pierre asked, and this time, it was Charles’ turn for his jaw to drop. 

“You don’t know High School Musical?!” He practically screeched. He was _not_ amused to see that Pierre had a grin and a laugh bubbling up at the pure horror Charles was exhibiting. 

“No? Should I?”

“It is a cultural staple of our generation, Pez, how can you not know it?! HSM3 came out when we were _seven_ and I dragged my Dads to see it nine times in cinema. It’s the greatest Disney movie of all time.”

“Never heard of it. I never really got into Disney.”

“You are literally from the country that has Disneyland.”

Pierre laughed and kept stirring the weird sauce in the pan, “Go and take the pasta off the heat and drain it for me.”

“I can’t believe you don’t know High School Musical… we are so watching it tonight,” Charles told him, throwing a glare over his shoulder and yelping when some boiling water splashed his hand. 

“Maybe pay attention to what you’re doing first and then you can decide on our movie plans, okay?”

“But it’s High School Musical, Pez, I just don’t get how you don’t know it. Like one and two, yeah fair because we was only four when that came out, and two came out when we was five, but like… _Senior Year_ , Pez! It’s an iconic film and it’s just so good! It’s amazing!”

“Charles, focus on the pasta, yeah?”

“But _Zac Efron_ , Pierre!” Charles protested. 

“I promise you we will watch it tonight, we can watch all of them if you want, but please, Charles, just focus on the pasta.”

Charles’ brain honestly stopped working when he heard Pierre say ‘ _focus_ ’. 

_Holy shit_

He knew it was Pierre’s accent that made _focus_ sound like _fuck us_ , but _holy shit_ Charles hadn’t realised that he’d end up developing a damn kink for Pierre’s accent. Normally it was Max with the weird fixation on accents but Charles got it. 

He really did get it now.

_Pierre’s accent_. That’s it. That’s the only thing in his head. 

“I meant to ask you,” Pierre said, interrupting Charles’ thoughts that were gradually going towards the ‘imagining Pierre whispering in his ear with that beautiful accent’, “What was it that Charlotte got you for your birthday? I know she said she was excited about what she came up with.”

“Did you see the skateboard next to my desk?”

“Yeah?”

“She custom made it,” Charles smiled. Charlotte had built him a board, sanded it down herself and attached all of the trucks and wheels, used some acrylic pouring and pulling string technique with black and white paint to create the pattern, before signing it and passing it over to Charles with a bright pink Disney princess helmet. 

Charlotte knew that when Charles had been younger he’d skateboarded a lot but hadn’t done it in years simply because he was too lazy to go and buy a new board, and Charles wasn’t ashamed to admit that when she’d passed it over to him, he’d cried a little bit. Charlotte was the most amazing person in the world and Charles loved his best friend a lot. 

“That’s really cool! She’s so talented,” Pierre grinned, taking the pan of pasta off Charles. Charles watched as he stirred the pasta into his pan along with chicken, some ham, a cheese that Charles couldn’t pronounce and then put a different cheese on top that Charles was also pretty sure he’d pronounce wrong and there was no way he was going to let himself get roasted for his word incompetence. 

“It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” Pierre said after putting it into the oven. 

Leaning back into the counter, Pierre watched Charles as he sung along to _‘I Want It All’_ , smiling as Charles caught sight of him and started dramatically re-enacting the scene from the movie for Pierre. 

He really was a one man show. 

“You gotta imagine I’m wearing a sparkly leotard for the full look,” Charles laughed as he moved his hips in the over-exaggerated way that Sharpay had done in the movie. Pierre looked more confused with each passing second but was practically doubled over with laughter at him. 

“You’re something else, Charles,” Pierre laughed when the song finished. 

As the next song started playing, Charles took a deep breath and slowly walked over to him. Pierre’s smile was slowly dropping to be replaced with a quizzical look, especially as the beat to the next song was much more relaxed than what Charles had just been dancing along to. 

“ _Take my hand_ ,” Charles sang softly, holding his hand out for Pierre to take, smiling encouragingly for Pierre to take it, “ _Take a breath, pull me close, and take one step_.”

Taking Pierre’s other hand, Charles put it gently at the top of his ribcage. There was still some distance between them, but it was okay. Charles was also a tiny bit taller than Pierre, but as he brought his free hand up to slowly stroke down Pierre’s cheek and jawline, leading him in a slow waltz around the kitchen. 

Charles was still singing softly, Pierre looking at him with pure love and adoration. 

“ _It's like catching lightning the chances of finding someone like you_ ,” Charles sung softly, moving his head to rest against Pierre’s shoulder. They stood on each other’s toes a couple times and Charles giggled as Pierre spun him in a slow circle, but he didn’t care. They weren’t meant to be professionals. They were meant to be two idiot teenagers who started on the right foot, got lost somewhere along the way, and had found their way back. 

And Charles had never felt so in love as he did right now. 

“ _Don't be afraid, afraid to fall, you know I'll catch you through it all_ ,” Charles murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin on Pierre’s neck and sending a shudder through his body that Charles felt pull him apart to his very core. 

“ _It's one in a million, the chances of feeling the way we do, and with every step together, we just keep on getting better_.” Charles looked up at Pierre, their faces inches apart. 

If Charles just moved his head slightly, his lips would brush against Pierre’s and he’d finally know what they feel like. 

He’d finally know what it feels like to no longer be gasping for breath in an empty oasis. 

He’d finally know what it feels like to kiss someone you was falling in love with. 

He’d finally know what it feels like to kiss someone that wanted to kiss you back and not just because they wanted to fall into bed with you. 

“Pierre,” Charles whispered, the song slowly falling into the background and the only music that Charles could hear was the anticipated pounding of his heart in his ears. His pulse was beating down on him, battering him in a way that Charles never wanted it to stop. 

He was used to the feeling of things attacking him, after all, he’d gone through Mick for three months. He was used to the feeling of being beaten up. 

“Sharl,” Pierre whispered back, eyes flicking back and forth between Charles’ lips and his eyes, “Not yet. Give yourself some more time. Believe me I want to kiss you so bad, but give yourself time.”

“Soon,” Charles promised, dropping his head back onto Pierre’s shoulder and dropping his hand to wrap his arms around Pierre’s waist instead. 

“Soon,” Pierre agreed, pressing a kiss to Charles’ jaw and cradling him close. The hand that had been resting against his ribcage came to cradle his head and Charles sighed, closing his eyes and allowing himself to melt into Pierre. 

He was so fucking fucked.

**\-- Sunday 11th October --**

“You really didn’t need to walk me home,” Pierre said as they got closer to his house, “I’d have been fine getting the bus by myself.”

“It’s honestly alright. I’ve got to go into town anyway because I’m missing a few things I need for my textiles coursework and I’m going to skate home, give my board a run out and see if Charlotte’s done a good enough job to kill me,” Charles grinned, nudging Pierre’s shoulder as they walked. “And I know Max is bringing Daniel home with him tonight and I need to get some air before those two horny bastards suffocate us all with their ‘I’m so in love with you’ heart eyes that they do literally 24/7. Like don’t get me wrong, I love Daniel and he’s great for Max, but if I have to see Daniel shoving his hands down Max’s trousers one more time, I will stab them both.”

“The love your brother and Daniel have really does seem like something that I’ve never seen before.”

“It really is. Sometimes, Max goes on about how he thinks that what he and Daniel have isn’t real. I get it, can’t lie, because Daniel is too perfect for Max. They do argue sometimes but they always make up,” Charles shrugs, kicking at a stone as he walks, “I know sometimes Max still thinks Daniel doesn’t actually love him which is stupid cause Daniel honestly loves Max more than anything on this planet. Treats Max like a prince and everything. If I got even a tenth of what they’ve got, I’d be pretty fucking happy. They’re just made for each other, like they’re just perfect.”

“Don’t compare yourself against Max. It didn’t end well last time,” Pierre smiled, gently knocking his elbow against Charles’ side. Charles, like the mature adult he is, simply flipped Pierre off with a grin. 

They walked in a relative silence for the rest of the journey. 

It was fairly bright still but that bitter wind was starting to creep in, sending the tips of Pierre’s ears a bright red that had Charles wanting to wrap his hands around him and keep him warm. 

Between the clouds, the sun was creeping through, catching the ends of Pierre’s hair and lighting up those blonde bits that snuck between the darker strands. 

Light in the darkness.

It’s funny how Pierre became that for Charles. 

He’d tanked Charles, shot him down and completely destroyed him, and then slowly built him back up, taught him that there was something good in trusting people, that just because someone has hurt you, it doesn’t always mean that they will forever hurt you. 

Sure, there were still some people that Charles would never forgive no matter what. Mick being the primary person. His mother a close second. 

But sometimes, maybe he didn’t have to keep fighting on his own. 

“Have you heard from Lando, by the way?” Pierre asked and Charles shook his head. 

“Nope. I spoke to him on Friday at school and he said Sacha is still trying to convince his parents to let him finish out his school year here. He doesn’t want to go and obviously Lando doesn’t either. And after long-distance is what made him break up with the last guy he was with, he’s very scared that it’s what will end him and Sacha,” Charles explained, going back to kicking a stone down the pathway, scuffing the toe of his vans, “Lando was dating an old mate of mine. I haven’t spoken to him in like… eight, nine months? And Lando and him had this on-and-off relationship pretty much since year nine I think? So we was like fourteen, and this guy kinda kept picking Lando, breaking up, getting back to together for a while, breaking up. It was a mess, and they finally split up for good in January, and then Lando got with Sacha in April. And Lando’s just terrified that he’s going to go through that again, and I don’t really know Sacha much because he goes to a college that’s in Harrow, but I’ve played PlayStation with him a few times and he’s decent. Adores Lando, so you know, hopefully it goes okay.”

“Have you always been friends with Lando then?”

“Nah. I knew Lando because of his ex, but Max started being friends with the British Trio about a year ago, I was normally with Charlotte and Antonio and Robert and the popular lot. And then after everything got fucked up with me and school and friends and Mick, I kinda didn’t want to be around people much and Max knows what it’s like to not really have any friends, so he dragged me along and I started hanging out with them and they’re decent. They’re good lads.”

Pierre took hold of Charles’ fingers, lightly squeezing his fingers and smiling at him, pulling Charles slightly into his side. 

“You’re a good lad too.”

Carefully moving his fingers, Charles allowed them to slip between Pierre’s, squeezing his hand back and smiling across at him with a growing blush that seemed to always be present on him when he was in the presence of Pierre. Their hands swung between them as they walked, and every time one would catch the other’s eye, they’d both giggle and blush and Charles honestly thought his heart was going to stop. 

Maybe it was finally safe for Charles to fall in love with him. 

Maybe it was finally safe for him to let his heart run free and be captured by the boy that looked at him like he was important. 

Pierre was pure. He made Charles feel safe. He could stop Charles’ mind from running and distract him when he needed it most.

Love didn’t have to be the painful chase that he thought it was supposed to be for a boy like him. 

He deserves a chance, after all. 

Stopping in the street, Charles let his hand slip out of Pierre’s. Pierre kept walking a little way ahead after getting a small nod from Charles to say he was okay. 

His mind couldn’t stop running but maybe that was okay. 

Was he seriously going to do this?

“Pierre, wait!” Charles called out. 

Okay this was actually going to happen.

Pierre stopped, turning slightly in the street and looking at where Charles had fallen behind. 

“What’s wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, Charles walked up to him, shaking hands coming to rest on his jaw and pulling him in. 

“Can I?” he breathed, his forehead resting against Pierre’s and looking into those beautiful, light pits of pure beauty. 

“The problem is,” Pierre whispered as he looked deep into Charles’ heart, “If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered back, cupping Pierre’s jaw and tugging him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can already anticipate the yelling
> 
> Kudos, comments & feedback always greatly appreciated💙
> 
> Tumblr is at [3303andmore](https://3303andmore.tumblr.com) xxx
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> **Fic Requests are currently closed xx**


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